m^9 \miiltt' \ '' .''j'^MiiiLitiwii'i^'i'] 








Fireside Poems 



— ^ — 

IRVING I. A. MILLER 














LIBRARY OE,CONGRESS. ' 
Shelf 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




cikt/^^. a. '?f{i:e^^ 



FIRESIDE POEMS 



By 



V<^" 



IRVING Jf A. MILLER 



33 



Marslialltown, Iowa, 



1887. 




The Miller Brother 

Publishing and Job Printing House, 

Marshalltown, Id. 

1887. 



-Y^^, 



r^CS^tr 



% 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the 
year of cur Lord 1887, 

BY IRVING J. A. MILLER, 

In the OflBce of the Librarian of Congress, at 
Washington, D. C. 



DEDICATED 

TO HER WHOSE HANDS HAVE REARED 

ME FROM MY INFANCY, 

THE TRUEST FRIEND ON EARTH, 

MY xMOTHER. 



^z^e^ 



z^efieiee. 

It is with uuieh pleasure that the author presents to the 
grandest of Nations, the first literary efltbrt of his life, "Fireside 
Poems." 

He does tliis fully cognizant of the responsibility which he 
has so willingly shouldered. 

There are ups and downs in every journey, and no man's 
path is wholly strewn with roses. 

While the author is confident, that — to make his life a suc- 
cess and win tlie plaudits of coming generations — lie must 
(like all of his predicessors) traverse thorny paths, he is 
willing to submit to criticism and profit thereby, well know- 
ing that: 

In distant lands, at home— go where you will, 
You'll find the critic and his little mill. 

Although this adventuro may not prove as grand a success 
as the author desires, he finds solace in the fact that he has 
accomplished what he set out to do, publish a book, which he 
launches on its own merits, and he will be more than pleased 
should they into whose hands it may fall, find the following 
quotation not inap[)ropriate : 

"Where frequent beauties strike the reader's view, 
He must not quarrel for a blot or two; 
But pardon equally to books or men 
The slips of human nature and the pen." 

I. J. A. M. 



CONTENTS. 

Poems Page 

Devotion - - - - - - 11 

A Psalm of Hope - - - - 13 

Along by the River ----- 15 

Dream of a ylie})her(l Boy . . . 17 

Courage ------ 23 

Young America ----- 25 

A Mother's Adieu ----- 27 

Down by Grandfather's Mill - . . 31 

Montana Mountain Scener}' - - - - 33 

The Storm - - - - - 35 

Drinking Song - - - . - 36 

Mabel's Deatli-bed - . . . 37 

The Tomb ---... 39 

Decoration Day Memorial ... 41 

Battles of the Heart ----- 44 

My Creed ------ 45 

Fedora --.... 49 

. The Army of Time - . . . 52 

Lurlie ------ 53 

Sons of Lexington ... - 5(3 

A Lover's Farewell ----- 58 

The Soldier Bov's Rei)rieve - . . 53 



viii Contents. 

Poems Page 

A Mother's Parting Plea - - - - 65 

Rescued --.-.. 67 

Who Knows? . - - - . 68 

Riverside ------ 70 

A Legend of Arizona - - - - 71 

Recollections of My Tender Youth - - 77 

Soldiers' Plome Dedication - - - - 79 

By the Sea - - - - - 82 

A Morning in June - - - - - 83 

Affection's Link ----- 84 

Axioms ------ 85 

Tobogganing - - - - - ' 86 

The Wonderful Land ... - 87 

Suppose a Man has Erred ... gg 

When From this Earth My Spirit 's Flown - 90 

Delia's Christmas Dream ... 91 

Onward - - - - - - 95 

A Dream of Home .... 97 

Song of the Wash-woman - - - - 98 

Night -..-.. 100 
After Twenty Years .... loi 

Three Cheers! ...... HO 

Boyhood Days - - - - - 111 

Which Would You be, Dear Boy? - - 112 
An Ode to the Siren .... 113 



Contents. 



IX 



Poems Page 

The Purest Love - - - - 115 

Lines ------- 116 

Ebenezer's Thanksgiving Dinner - - 117 

When Death Enshrouds Our Lifeless Clay - 123 

Those Rebel Flags . . - . 124 

Peace to the Departed - - - - 125 

The Mirror - - - - - 120 

The Hacred Love of God - - - - 127 

Tribute to Senator John A. Logan - - 128 

My Ship - - - . . . 129 

An Honest Thouglit - - . . 131 

Destiny ------ 139 

The West - - - - - - 134 

The Farmer Boy - - - - - 135 

When the Baby Died - - . . 136 

Suicide --.-.. 137 

A June Idyl ----- 133 

Wanted ---... 139 

in Menioriani ----- 140 

Santa Clans - - - - - 140 

Aut()graj)h ----- 142 

My Valentine ----- 143 

Lines to Mazie - - - - 114 

Lines to Julia - . - - 145 

A Wish Expressed - - . - 146 



DEVOTION. 

I love all souls to whom true love is due; 

I love my countiy, yea, devoutly too, 

And proudly bonst of her as one who sings 

The freedom of a land unruled by kings. 

A land of riglit where ev'ry man is free, 

Whate'er his rank or nationality, 

To toil by sweat of brow, or richly thrive, 

To live as single, or to early wive. 

To gather gold and save his daily pelf, 

Express his thoughts, or, keep them to himself; 

Yet all must bear in mind to faithful be 

And live as brothers should, in harmony; 

And like the bees, improve each passing hour 

By garn'ring lore from ev'ry learned power, 

Content to labor with a will and wait. 

With manly pride each day receive his fate, 

And win or lose, with patience persevere 

Until he sees the mount of glory rising near. 



12 Firemle Poems. 

Then with redoubled energy recall 
Ilis forces for the final rise or fall, 
Nor any nerve relax while in the fight 
Until he finds himself a Plumed Knight. 

I love the man who daily lives to learn, 

Content to give and prosper in return, 

Nor scorns a brother, but still holds him dear ; 

However he may rank, counts him his peer; 

A man of culture and of noble deeds; 

A friend to all ; whose ev'ry action leads 

To e<lucate and I'aise from out tlie mire 

The i)()or de})raved ; and teacli them to aspire 

To grander, nobler things; nor longer seek 

The wayward paths, where tread the wan and weak- 

The i)Oor, deluded souls who've gone astray 

Where vice prevails and Sin is lord of day. 

Give me the man, who, tempted not by pelf. 
Writes for his fellow-men and not himself; 
And I will show you one — if free in thought — 
Whose works will by his fellowmen be sought. 



A Pmlm of Hope. 13 



A PSALM OF HOPE. 

There are songs enough for the heroes.— S^io Wheeler Wilcox. 

I sing not for those who have conquer'd 
And mounted the bulwarks of fame; 

And written, for aye, on her summit, 
A l)rilliant and time-honor'd name. 

I sing not for those who were bravest, 
Who faith to an army restor'd ; 

And enter'd the rank of the mighty 
By battle-axe, sabre or sword. 

I sing not for tliose who have master'd 
The problems regarded as best, 

For paving the thorny road leading 
On high to the realms of the blest. 

I sing not for tliose who were brightest 

In science or rhetoric lore ; 
Nor sing I this song for the thousands 

Whose lives have a bountv in store. 



14 Firemlr Poems: 

But sing I this song for the humble 

Whose barques have been driven and toss'd, 

Borne down by the storm of destruction, 
Disabl'd and hopelessly lost 

I sing for the heart-broken mother. 
The care-burden'd father as well; 

The hopeless, the crucifi'd lover, 
For them does my s^^mpath}' swell. 

I sing for the helpless, the erring; 

The waif of the city or town ; 
The wretched who fall in life's battle 

Unblessed by love or renown. 

For them do I sing with a fervor, 
A hope that is beaming with love; 

That falling they fall not forever 
But share in the goodness above. 



Along by the River. 15 



ALONG BY THE RIVER. 



In flowery June, 
When brooks send up a cheerful Uxne.— Bryant. 



Along by the river we wander, 

Where lillies and daffodils grow, 
Where wrapp'd in their fragrance and splendor 

The roses and hyacinths glow. 
Where blossom the sweet-scented daisies. 

The buttercups smiling and fair. 
Where .Jack-in-the-pulpit is off 'ring 

To Nature his evening prayer. 

Along by the river we wander 

While plucking in bright, sunny June, 
The bluebells and red honeysuckles. 

The Goddess of Nature's sweet boon ; 
And skimming the water's smooth surface, 

While swooping along in their glee, 
The birds chipper out in their gladness, 

''There's no one so hap})y as we." 



16 FireMde Poemf^. 

Along by the river we wander, 

A merry and joyousome pair, 
And Bessie is tastily weaving 

Sweet flow'rs in her beautiful hair ; 
And straying from out the tall thicket 

The rabbits go skipping away, 
While over the green, rolling prairie, 

The squirrels are chasing in play. 

Along by the river we wander, 

Two hearts without separate goals. 
My hand is clasp'd tight in dear Bessie's — 

A strangeness enraptures our souls; 
I know, oh, too well what she's thinking, 

All warm is her lilly-white hand! 
I press it in mine, oh, so gently — 

The meaning we both understand. 



Tliis life is a union of pleasure and woe; 

This world is a stage of both virtue and crime; 
Its actors are artists of various show. 

And Death is the vallet of Grandfather Time. 



Dream of a SliepJierd Boy. 17 



DREAM OF A SHEPHERD BOY. 

Tired and foot-sore I sat me down to rest 

Beside a brook which fiovv'd in blissful chimes, 

And dozing, dreamed I of the golden west, 
Her verdant valleys and her sunn}' climes, 

Till I had whil'd ;iway two blessed hours 

In quiet thought amid celestial bowr's. 

I dream'd I saw a land of flow'rs and fruit, 
A valley fiU'd b}' Nature's wond'rous art 

With all things rare and beautiful to suit 

The thousands roaming through its ev'ry part. 

How strangely grand did ev'rything appear; 

What beauty crown'd the scene both far and near! 

How beautiful indeed ! Oh how sublime 
The tall Sierras clad in verdure rare, 

While gliding streamlets, smooth as poet's rhyme, 
Swept swiftly on to lands of fragrant air ; 

While in the trees the birds with plumage gay, 

Sang songs of peace unto the Queen of Day. 



18 Fireside Poems. 

Through vineyards drooping 'neath the mighty weight 
Of ripen'd fruit, deUcious to the taste ; 

'Mong orchard trees with heart so glad, elate, 
I wander'd on, now loit'ring, now in haste, 

Till by and by beneath an orange tree 

I spied a maiden sweet as sweet could be. 

She sat there all alone, and in her lap 

She held some grapes and oh ! such golden pears. 

Her eyes were clos'd, as finding in a nap 
A blissful rest away from toils and cares ; 

An angel of perfection did she seem, 

Though but the creature of my boyish dream. 

I chose :i si)Ot close by the gentle maid 

And stop[)'d to rest, perhaps you wonder, "why?" 

But I was cliarm'd and more than half afraid 
Lest I siiould break the spell by drawing nigh; 

And there I sat and watch 'd her heaving breast 

Until my rapture lull'd my soul to rest. 

How long I slei)t 1 can't remember now. 
But well 1 know I woke up with a start; 

Cool perspiration trickl'd down my brow 

For sorrow's lance had pierc'd my ha})py heart. 



Dream of a ShcpJicnf Jioi/. 19 

The maiden had awaken'd while I slept, 
And disajipear'd. I thought of her and wept. 



While mourning thus my sad encounter'd fate 
And pond'ring o'er the loss I'd undergone, 

I heard a voice sing sweetly: "Darling wait; 
I'll meet thee, dearest one, before the dawn." 

Then puzzled sore to learn from whence it came, 

I listen'd still ; au,ain I heard the same. 



T was convini-'d that she was near me still, 
And quick arose; then catching up m}^ hat 

I started out in eager search until 

I wander'd back to where, before, I sat; 

And there I laid me on the weary ground. 

Unconscious of the one who hover'd 'round. 



Again I clos'd my eyes in blissful sleep 
And soon the world was wholly lost to me, 

But there was one who dared to come and peep 
Full in my face beneath that orange tree ; 

And ere her nimble steps she could retrace 

I saw once more her charming, fairy face. 



20 Fireside Poems. 

I bade her "stop one moment !" she obey'd 
And turning 'round she softly pointed down, 

I look'd, and lo ! a wreath which she had made 
Lay near my side, and woven like a crown, 

Of fragrant flow'rs of ev'ry form and hue 

From richest red unto the purest blue. 

Though often in my dreams I'd seen at night 
Bright fairy lands all strewn with gaudy flow'i-s ; 

Though gorgeous splendor and supreme delight 

I'd found while wand'ring througii their scented bow'rs ; 

Yet, never did I see a fairy face 

Tliat could outrival such a queenly grace. 

"Ah pretty maid," I spoke in tender tone. 

"What is the meaning of this lovely gift? 
Why come you thus to me and all alone?" 

She answered, as she did her eyes uj)lift. 
"I come because I lov'd you, princely boy. 
Wilt thou not follow me and share my joy?" 

"I will indeed!" I cried, and joining hands 

We started on our journey, merrily; 
She laughing told me of those happy lands — 

The Eden of our fair America; 



Dream of a ShepJierd Boy. 21 

And all the while seem'd lovlier than when 
I first drew near her in that (juiet glen. 



For hours and hours we went our haj)py way 
Until our journey was complete; then stood 

Before an arch with vines and flowers gay, 
With gates that opened to a realm of good, 

Where stood a golden palace all bedeck'd 

With stones and gems that wealth and taste collect. 



Such lovely parks with intermingling paths. 

And crystal fountains, 'neath whose cooling spray 
White swans were sailing through their shower baths, 

While on the green the rabbits were at play ; 
And birds and butterflies were on the wing 
And elk and deer were browsing near a spring. 



A while we onward stroll'd bound by love's spell, 
Then sat we down beside a rippling stream, 

And what took place within that "blissful hell" 
Is not include<] in my idle dream ; 

But there we dwelt; oh talk about sweet bliss. 

What feeling, oh, wliat rapture in a kiss! 



22 Fireside Poems. 

Who has not once experienc'd its worth, 
Beheld the rose-bud lustre of the face 

When lips unite and heaven sinks to earth 
And heart meets heart in fondest love's embrace, 

Can not portray — however well he tries — 

How soul joins soul in ecstacy's surprise. 

As mating birds and insects seeking go 

And wing their eager way to distant parts, 

So will we search for pleasures, high and low. 

When Natui'e's promptings rule our captur'd hearts. 

While nuising thus, my Guardian Angel said: 

"Awake thou dreamer!" and my vision tied. 

When 1 awoke the sun was sinking fast 
Behind a hill; the sky was all ablaze; 

xVnd from the spot where I had seen them last 
My sheep had wander'd off afar to graze. 

"What shall I do?" 1 ask'd of bird and flow'r, 

"The shades of night will fall within an hour." 

The lesson that my trouble taught was this : 
How foolish 'tis to dream the hours away ; 

For time and opportunity we miss 

In idle dreams, full oft we dearly pay; 



Courcu/e. 23 

The shepherd boy by day must keej) awake, 

Lest wolves by night liis waiid'ring sheej) sliould take. 



COURAGE. 

When your mind and feet are weary, 

And sad thoughts your soul oppress, 
Do you ever stop to ponder 

On the deeds that God will bless? 
Have you done an act of kindness? 

Have you lent a willing hand 
To some poor, dishearten'd creature, 

Wreck'd u[)on a foreign strand? 

Have you done your duty nobly; 

Caus'd some saden'd, heart to thrill 
With a tender, deep emotion 

For God's love and sacred will ? 
Have you done a lasting favor ; 

Done your work so true, so well, 
That the angel-hosts in heaven 

E'er rejoice your deeds to tell? 



24 Fireside Poewf). 

If you liave, then sing, be joyful ; 

You have prov'd a friendship true; 
Be contented ; on the morrow, 

Eagerly your task renew. 
Ev'ry day you should endeavor 

To encourage those in need ; 
Help them gain a stronger footing ; 

God will bless you for the deed. 

YdU may many foes encounter; 

Yet, with all your force eombin'd 
You will win their courteous friendship 

Carry out your plan designed. 
Don't give up in desperation ; 

Soon the clouds will roll away, 
And from out the shades of darkness, 

You'll behold tlie light of day. 



Pray listen ! What murmurs break clear on our ears 
Like fluttering wings as they flit on their way? 

They're not of the birds, but the swift winged years 
Which leave in their travel all else to decay. 



Young America. 25 



YOUNG AMERICA. 

Arise ye sons! Press on with haste! 
You have no time to lose or waste. 
March on! March on!! with stately tread. 
Who rules to-day will soon be dead, 
And from the ranks of younger sons 
We'll choose our future noble ones. 

March on! 0, Young America, 
March on! 

Look up! Make haste!! Your path is clear; 

The world is free and help is near. 

Now is the time to strike the blow, 

To raise yourselves from what is low 

Up to that height — which masters sought — 

Immortaliz'd by actions wrought. 

March on ! O, Young America, 
March on ! 

Make haste! Your victory is sure. 
True merit shall for aye endure. 



26 Fireside Poems. 

Unyielding strive ; the years will bless 
Your toils and crown you with success; 
And they who scorn, condemn you, now, 
Before you then will humbly bow. 

March on ! 0, Young America, 
March on! 

Step forward with a noble aim. 
The day is yours, if you will frame 
A tower by which you may ascend 
And view with pride the nearing end 
Where Fame and Fortune do abide, 
And Master Genius doth reside. 

March on! 0, Young America, 
March on ! 



You pluck a rose with eager hand, 

The bus!) persists to bear; 
Although it lost a fragrant flow'r — 

The germ remaineth there. 
Just so it is with ev'ry man 

Who holds the grace within, 
For he shall rise, though sore oppress'd, 

And triumph over sin. 



A Mother's Adieu. 27 



A MOTHER'S ADIEU. 

"The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world." 

How few e'er consider while treading life's road, 
The cares of a mother — her burdensome load ; 
Who rear'd them from childhood with tenderest care, 
And pictur'd a future she never could share. 

She patiently labors, content with her lot, 
Nor breathes she a murmur for what slie has not; 
From morning till ev'ning she's never at ea.se 
But cheerfully toiling, her children to please. 

In summer or winter, in sunshine or rain, 
She's constantly searching, some means to obtain 
By which to sui)ply all their wants; and make bright 
Their cottage so humble — their home and delight. 

And while on their couclies they're lying at rest. 
She's sewing, and {wondering vvdiat's for the best; 
And tiius she keeps leading, through wearysome years, 
A life full of hardship, to vanish in tears. 



2S Fireside Poems. 

The children get married — desert her tit last — 
And leave her to worry and fret o'er the past ; 
Their thoughts are of pleasure and hoarding of gold ; 
They care not for mother, "She's getting too old." 

They live in large mansions with finery grand ; 
Have servants and horses, both at their command ; 
Their wardrobes are stylish, their manners "immense," 
But woefully lacking in goodness and sense. 

At last she grows feeble, her health becomes poor, 
She thinks of her Johnny : "He'll care for me sure." 
She sends him a letter; then waits; by and by 
She gets a sad answer — a blow — in reply. 

He says: "We've been talking — my Molly and I — 
At last have concluded you might come and try 
And see how you like it — our mansion so gay. 
We'll try to su[)port you as long as you'll stay. 

"We have a small room in the attic o'erhead. 
No stove and no carpet, but middling good bed ! 
But I'm in a hurry, to business must fly. 
Your son and protector, 

John Rogers, 

Good-by ! 



.1 Mof]if/s Adini. 20 

"P. H. — Please iniorni us when you will be here, 
So as to save trouble — my Molly 's so queer. 
Just i^et on the j)assenger. 'taint very far, 
Come 'round to the kitchen, 

Yours truly, 

J. R." 

How cruel, each word like a poisonous dart 
Shot forth by some savage and lodged in her heart; 
The troubles and anguish she reckon'd as ceas'd 
Come back in full measure and ten-fold increas'd. 

She wipes back her tears as she ])onders alone 

O'er scenes of her childhood, so many years flown ; 

Tlie bountiful joys on the day she was wed ; 

And mourns for the husband who long has been dead. 

She thinks of that morning — her joy and delight — 
When God sent her .Jolmny, their home to make bright; 
But sad are her thoughts as she dreams o'er the pnst, 
Her joys were too boundless, forever to last. 

''Oh Johnny," she murmurs and sinks in her chair. 
Heart burden'd with sorrow, o'ercome with despair ; 
"Oh, what have I done that could merit such scorn 
From one I have nourished from infancy's morn? 



80 Fireside Poemi^. 

"Come back to me Johnny ! I beg of you, dear ; 
I'm feeble and aged, not long to be here ; 
Oh, little I dream 'd of this sorrow and pain ; 
Oh why should you ever your mother disdain ? 

"How often I've sat by your cradle, my boy, 
And smil'd, as I gaz'd on my innocent 'joy'. 
With dreams of the future (as mothers oft do,) 
The fanciful pleasures which seldom come true. 

"God grant you may ever a happy life live, 
And when yoM are old ne'er have cause to forgive 
A child for such conduct as I forgive you; 
My blessing go with you — a mother's adieu !" 

(lod l)less the poor mother now aged, forlorn, 
With hands from hard labor all wrinkl'd and worn ; 
Who thouglil when her darling, her pleasure and. pride, 
(tTcw up and got married, she'd with him abide. 

kShf's dwelling to-day by an old country road, 
In what is well known as tlie '"Paujjer's Abode;" 
While in a tine niansion, a grand, gorgeous one, 
(And not far away) dwells her unworthy sou. 



Down by Grandf at Iter's Mill. 31 

Thus soiiietinies you'll find it wherever you go, 

That, parents are paid off with trouble and woe ; 

As soon as they're feeble, their labors are o'er, 

Their children inform tbem : "You're wanted no more." 

Dear reader if I have your sympathy won. 
It is not in vain that my work has been done; 
You'll kindly remember wherever you stray, 
The mother now dwelling, "Just over the way." 

Wherever you wander, or happen to roam, 
Let this be your motto: "Think ever of home." 
Among all the treasures you'd never neglect; 
Remember your mother — her virtues respect. 



DOWN BY GRANDFATHER'S MILL. 

(lines fqr music.) 

Come! where the roses bloom over the way, 
O, love, let us wander o'er meadow and hill ; 

Come ! where the lillies are blooming to-day, 
Down by the mill-race of grandfather's mill. 



32 Fireside Poems. 

Life seems a hardship without thee, my love, 

And bitter the thoughts which my saden'd heart thrill ; 

Years have elaps'd since we sat here, my love, 
Down by the mill-race of grandfather's mill. 

Sad was that hour when we parted, my dear, 
When anguish and pain did my happiness kill ; 

Sorrowful still 1 am languishing here, 

Down by the mill-race of grandfather's mill 

Still is tlie wheel iwhich went click-et-te-clack 
As waters dash'd over its top with a will ; 

Gone is my love she can never come back 
Down by the mill-race of grandfather's mill. 

Empty tiie cottage, that once was thy home. 
Now standing alone on the brow of the hill : 

Farewell to thee, love, no more shall we roam, 
Down bv the mill-race of grandfather's mill. 



Monfnini Moimtaiv Svniery. 88 



MONTANA MOUNTAIN SCENERY. 

From the hillside of the valley, 

Through the glen and o'er the mountains 
There is beauty, there is grandeur, 
There is music in the air; 
Where the Rubies* rise in union 
Near the Table-landsf so rustic, 
I can see be^'ond their turrets 
Precious realms of jewels fair. 

At the Left Fork of Wisconsin,^ 
Baldie § stands so tall, majestic; 

White from age and clear of woodland ; 
Fields where man has never trod ; 
Here's the Gulch, ah ine, wdiat beauty! 
With her s|)arkling streams of water — 
Fed V;y s])rings so cool and [)recious — 
Dancinii' to the tune of God. 



* A range of mountains, of a bluish hue, lying to the south-east of Sheridan. 

t A hi'^h elevation of land, lying directly east of Sheridan. 

X The Wisconsin is a mountain stream with two branches known as the Right Fork 
and Left Fork. 

? One of the highest and most barren mountains in Montana, whose peak was never 
known to have been scaled. 



34 Fireside Poems. 

As I wander on enchanted 

O'er a winding road through forests — 
Trees of pine and spruce and hem lock- 
To a grander, freer height; 
I am lost in admiration 

And my thoughts go soaring upward 
Till I almost feel my being- 
Borne away on wings of light. 

On, u[)\ up!! I gladly hasten 
'Mid the roar of rushing waters, 
Hardly halting on my journey — 
Anxious to attain the end. 
Where 1 poise u])on a precipice 
High above the clouds, and eager 
Gaze I down into the valley 
Where the rivulets descend. 

There amid the endle-ss beauty 
Of a valley grand and quiet 
Nestles Sheridan the hoj)eful — 
Little villiige fair to see; 
By whose border runs a streamlet 

Cool and clear, and brightly beaming 
As it dances o'er the pebbles 
With its ri[)pling melody. 



The Storm. 35 



THE STORM. 

Feelingless, merciless, pitiless storm, 

Raginpf and crashing outside of my door; 
Conductive, productive, destructive old storm. 

What is the meaning of all of this roar? 
What are the tidings you hastily bring 
Borne on 3'our wonderful, wandering wing? 
These are the tidings — the story of old — 

Wafted by many a hurricane wild : 
"Wretched and starving, all dying from cold, 

Mother and father and innocent child." 
Tidings thou bringest in terrible form, 
Feelingles.«, merciless, pitiless storm. 

Feelingless, merciless, pitiless storm. 

Cold is thy breath and foreboding thy voice; 

Howling, scowling, prowling storm. 

Heed thee we must lor thou leavest no choice. 

Why dost thou waken such terror and pain? 

Why are the helpless so ruthlessly slain ? 

This is the answer we quickly receive, 

Told by the king of the storm as he goes: 



36 Fireside Poems. 

"Such is my errand : To make others grieve 

Anrl bring to their shelter the deepest of woes." 
Such is thy errand in menacing form, 
Feelingless, merciless, pitiless storm. 



DRINKING SONG. 



Fill up the glasses, Kernan — 
Once more, and once again — 

With wine of sweetest flavor. 
Let's drink to those who reign. 

Here's to the health of Bach us 
The god of purest wine; 

And Cupid, aye, the artful. 
Whose love is so divine. 

Here's to the health of J^olus 
Who drives our ships at sea ; 

The charming goddess Flora, 
And to the Graces three. 



MabeUs Death -bed. 37 

Once more fill up the glasses, 

How clear and bright they shine; 

Here's to the fam'd Apollo 
And his entrancing Nine. 

Once more and all is over, 

Our drinking wisely done; 
Here's to our proud old Nation 

The arandest 'neath the sun. 



MABEL'S DEATH-BED. 

Listen! while I tell my story, how an earthly angel died — 
Pass'd away without a struggle, to the fold on yonder side. 
0, it is a charming picture, I would deftly paint to-day, 
Of a sweet, angelic creature, who from us has pass'd away 
To her blissful home in heaven — to her Savior, there to 
stay. 

'Round her trundle bed we gather'd, bravely holding back 

our tears; 
Such a scene I'd never witness'd during all my happy 

vears. 



38 Fireside Poems. 

Near her stood the faithful doctor, doing all within his 

pow'r; 
But despite of his endeavors, nearer dawn'd that fatal 

hour, 
When the hand of One so mighty, pluck 'd from us that 

tiny flow'r. 

For a while she seem'd as dreaming, then she brighten'd 

up, apace; 
Gaz'd on us, as if in wonder at the tears upon each face; 
Then to mamma and to papa, who were standing by the 

bed : 
"Now dear mamma and dear papa do not cry ibr me v^hen 

dead ; 
Won't, you meet me up in heaven? I will watch for you," 

she said. 

Then we kiss'd the little darling, as she bade us all fare- 
well, 

Whilst our deep, intense emotions, words are powerless to 
tell. 

With her palid li]is she murmur'd ; "God is waiting for 
you, too !" 

Clos'd her eyes on earth forever — naught in life had she 
to rue — 



Mabel\ Death -hed. 39 

All her short but pure existence was a pleasure to our 
view. 

Just one month ago we gather'd 'round her little bed so 

near ; 
Just one month ago we laid her 'neath the willows — Mabel 

dear ; 
O, that angel face, so lovely, it. will ever be in view ; 
And those words so quaintly spoken — "God is waiting for 

you, too!" — 
Will remain with us forever, as a saying, pure and true. 



THE TOMB. 

When coldness wraps this suffering clay. — Byron. 

Oh how loathsome, full of horror! 

Is the tomb — Death's awful lair; 
Just to think of being buri'd 

In a grave; to moulder there 
And be eaten by the grave-worms 

And the reptiles 'neath the sod, 
O! the very thought is crazing. 

Is this righteous, oh, inv God? 



40 Fireside Poems. 

I am- thinking — gravely thinking— 

'Tis a dreadful thing to die 
And be buri'd aye and ever 

From the sight of human eye; 
And I shudder as I ponder, 

For my heated blood runs cold 
At the thought, the grave will sometime 

Me within its gloom enfold. 

When we stop to calmly reckon 

Up the myriad souls once brave, 
Who are slumbering in earth's bosom 

Or beneath the ocean's wave; 
Does it not appear appalling? 

Fill our hearts with bitter dread? 
Just to tliink of millions dying 

And of millions who are dead. 

0, Thou God of love and mercy 

Is there naught else Thou canst give 
To a poor repentant sinner 

If on earth he cease to live? 
For I dread that awful ending, 

When my eyes shall peer in gloom ; 
And I shrink from being buri'd 

In a dreary, loathsome tomb. 



Decoration Day Memorial. 41 



DECORATION DAY MEMORIAL. 



Respectfully dedicated to both the Blue and the Gray, who participated in the terrible 
struggle between the North and South. 



Cover them over with beautiful flowers, 

Deck them with garlands those brothers of owcs.—Carleton. 



Hail! ye noble sons of glory; 
In behalf of the departed — 

Friend or foe it does not matter, 
It is peace we seek to-day; — 
Let us join our hearts in union, 
March as brothers in [)rocession 
To their graves, and freely garland 
Victor Blue and conquer'd Gray. 

'Tis to-day we mourn the loss of 
Noble son and honor'd father 

Who went forth into the slaughter 
For a dearly cherish'd cause ; 
And a Nation bless'd with freedom 

Hoists her flags half mast in mourning 
While ber cannons loudly thund'ring 
Sound their signals of applause. 



42 Fireside Poems. 

Though the South became rebellious 
And our Northern rights imperil'd, 
We at last march'd forth triumphant, 
None remaining to subdue; 
And to-day, why should the spirit 
Of a hostile foe be present? 

Why not as a band of brothers 
Pay the tributes which are due? 

Should the tide of revolution 
Tn our veins be ever flowing 
Since the war has fully ended — 
Peace and glory reign supreme? 
Let us live for aye one people, 
With our hearts and souls united, 
Lot the cimse of endless friendshij> 

Ever be our joyful theme. 

* * * 

Through the North and like a tempest 
Flash'd the news so fraught with terror 
Of the firing on Fort Sumter, 
Its surrender and its fall ; 
Then our blood ran hot with anger 
And too well you know the reason — 
'Twas the signal of a challenge 
That imperil'd each and all. 



Decoration Doji Memorial. 43 

How the volunteers inarch'd forward 
In their strong deterininntion ; 

How they wav'd their country's banner — 
Pledging life for its defense; 
How they fought witli stern resistance, 
Stood like mighty flerculeans; 

Fought and died repulseless martyrs — 
Where the battle rag'd intense. 

Long will live the old traditions; 
Live in poetry and story, 

Of those battles grand and mighty 
In the days of slavery; 
Of the bloody fields of Shiloh 

And the mighty siege of Vicksburg 
And the dauntless Lee's surrender 
And the bondmen's shouts of glee. 

:1: * * 

Now that all the war is over 

And once more in peace we prosper, 
And the pow'r of thrift and pleasure 
Holds possession of our land; 
Let us drop this bloody question 
And forever in the future 

Strive to mould our favor'd Nation 
As one grand, fraternal band. 



44 Fireside Poems. 



BATTLES OF THE HEART. 

Tell me not with hesitation 

That the bravest battles fought; 

Were the battles of our Nation — 
Battles by our heroes wrought. 

They were battles of another — 
Fought without a ball or dart; 

Battles of each noble mother — 
Fought within the troubl'd heart. 

Battles, not of wicked violence — 
Fought on fields of gory red ; 

Battles fought in sorrow, silence, 
Conquer'd aye, when life had fled. 

Yea ! the spot I long have cherish'd, 

Is this battle field of old, 
Where the bravest warriors perish'd 

And the cause was never told. 



My Creed. 45 



MY CREED.* 

You may talk about religion and discuss it till 3'ou die; 

Bring to light its holy teachings, show them up to ev'ry 
eye; 

And impress on ev'ry sinner, foujid betwixt this earth and 
hell. 

Heaven's charms and lasting wonders and the angels that 
there dwell; 

But remember this my kinsmen, he's a christian soul in- 
deed, 

Wlio'll befriend a man in trouble, and befriend him when 
in need. 

We t(»-<hiy — a prosp'rous Nation — are impos'd upon, I 

know, 
5y a class of sr)ul-redeemers; and you'll find where'er you 

go 
These weak minded, vile imposters, in pursuit of worldly 

pelf, 
Each one shouting: "Save the sinner!" (who's none other 

than himself:) 



* Read by the author at the New England Supper and dedication of the new Metho- 
dist parsonage at Marshalltown, Iowa, Jan. 13, 1887. 



40 Fireside JWins. 

And of sucli 1 wish to warn you — warn you all this very 

night — 
It may save your hearts some anguish while you're battling 

for the right. 

There's a very touching story, and to it I will allude, 
Of a woman sick and feeble, dying for the want of food; 
She had neither friends nor money; and her neighbors 

pass'd her by, 
Seldom stopping to discover whether she would live or die; 
But at last some so call'd christians to her home a visit 

paid. 
And while she was cold and starving, to the Lord they 

wildly pray'd. 

What to her was all their praying — it was food she madly 

crav'd ; 
It was not her soul that bother'd ; 'twas her stomach, she 

wisii'd sav'd. 
All at once the door was o})ened arid amidst that kneeling 

crowd 
Stepji'd a son of toil and labor and he spoke both harsh 

and loud: 
"Father couhhi't cdine this ev'ning but he sent along his 

})ray'rs! 



J/// r,rM. 47 

They are out there in the wagon!" Then the}' rose u}) 
from their chairs, 



Follow'd him out to the wagon, and with pleasure help'd 

liim in. 
" 'S awful cold," remark'd the stranger, "Aint Miss Smith 

got dreadful thin? 
Why, I hardl}^ recogniz'd her when I stepp'd in at the 

door ; 
If we'd known she was so needy, father'd sent these things 

hefore." 
Then he climh'd upon the wagon and the "pray'rs" he 

handed out, 
Such as cahbage, flonr, potatoes, onions, beef, cann'd fruit 

and kraut. 

All those blessi'd gifts of kindness — wouldn't the}' fill a 

vacant place. 
And restore the natural color to that dying woman's face? 
Didn't her heart throb with emotion while her tears flow'd 

fast and free. 
As she thank'd the blessed donor, who had sent her hope 

and glee? 
Well, if there was e'er a christian with a loyal cliristian's 

wavs, 



48 Fireside Poems. 

'Twas that kind good-hearted farmer, who receiv'd that 
woman's praise. 

0, my dear beloved kinsmen, I would have you all to 

know 
That a true and loyal christian is not built of wind and 

blow; 
He is always kind and loving, faithful, tender, noble, true, 
And his eyes are always seeking out some good his hands 

may do; 
And when duty calls for action, he is off at duty's call — 
Ne'er relaxing any effort — striving for the good of all. 

You may not, or may believe it; they may laugh at it 
who will; 

But this is my sacred doctrine and it ever shall be still: 

You may talk about religion and discuss it till you die; 

Bring to light its holy teachings, show them up to ev'ry 
eye; 

But remember this my kinsmen: He's a chi'istian soul in- 
deed. 

Who'll befriend a man in trouble, and befriend him when in 
need. 



Fedora. 49 



FEDORA. 



Every woe a tear can claim, 
Except an erring sister's shame. — Byron. 



In a liome 'mid wealth and splendor; 

In a nome of vice and shame; 
Doom'd by wayward dissipation — 

Died a woman but in name. 
All her good she had perverted, 

All her charms had been for sale; 
And lier wretchedness and ruin 

Are the subject of my tale. 



I stood at eve by the grave of one whom the world pro- 
claim 'd as lost; 

Who sold her life in a shameful way, e'er regardless of the 
cost ; 

Who once was fair as a Fleur-de-Lh or the "Lilly of the 
Dew" 

With deep blue eyes, and cheeks as chaste as a rose of 
damask hue. 



50 Fireside Poems. 

Her heart was once of a nature sweet and as pure as any 

gold ; 
She lost her way in the paths of sin and her innocence 

she sold: 
She sought the haunts of the vicious men — with her beauty 

won their praise ; 
They cow'r'd like slaves at her dainty feet and they lov'd 

her luring ways. 

She thrill'd their hearts with a lustful fire by her sweet, 

enchanting voice; 
And from the sons of the rich and poor, at her will slie 

made her choice; 
And one by one she embrac'd them all in her arms close 

to lier breast, 
Till she had number'd a thousand slaves, and a thousand 

fools caress'd. 

On, on! she flitted as gay and swift as a pheasant in its 

fljght, 
And won great fame from admiring men as their idol day 

and night; 
She gather'd treasure from far and near till her coffers she 

had HH'd, 
Then woke at last from her hellish dream when her heart 

was nearlv still'd. 



Fedora. 51 

It fill'd her soul with a dread dismay that her health and 

strength had fail'd ; 
They shunn'd her now, who ador'd her once, and her loss 

she sore bewail'd ; 
If she could only recall the past! but repentance came too 

late; 
The life she chose was a life of sin and its end her chosen 

fate. 

And as she lay on her dying bed in the home of ill-re- 
pute, 

Her cry went up to the God above but alas! His voice 
was mute. 

Her bitter tears as they trickl'd down o'er each bleech'd 
and faded cheek 

Her anguish told; tho' her lips still mov'd, 'twas in vain 
she tried to speak. 

One tremb'ling gasp and her spirit fled, and her doom was 

seal'd for aye, 
Slie pass'd unmourn'd to her lonely grave, without one to 

weep or pray ; 
And as I stood by that grave, I thought of the wretched 

life she led ; 
That some poor mother would find relief in the thought 

her child were dead. 



52 Prrr>i!(Jr Poems:. 

And thus there pass'd on a summer day as the ev'ning 

shadows fell, 
A woman wrapp'd in the shroud of shame, to the gloom 

of death and hell. 
may this tale of a siren's life be a lesson to the young 
So strangely charm'd b}^ the same old songs, that for 

years, Fedora sung. 



THE ARMY OF TIME. 

Adown tlie deep valley of endless decay, 
Are passing the millions in battle array ; 
Each clad in full armor rides on in his pride — 
The sabre of justice display'd at his side. 

How softly and silently onward they pass, 

A hopeful, ambitious, innumerable nuiss; 

How graceful their movements — how grand and sublime, 

Comm:uided with valor by General Time. 

Fatigu'd and o'ercome by the wearisome jar. 
The fates of exposure from journeying far; 
Each roird in his blanket of j)eaceful repose. 
Lies down by the river that silently flows. 



Lurlie. 53 

And bivouac'k'd there on the banks of decay, 
They wait for the marshaling call of tlie day; 
While slowly their spirits, at Charon's behest, 
Cross over the Stvx to the reaion of rest. 



LURLIE. 



"Dying, I'm dying!" he tearfully gasp'd, 

"Oh where is my bonny, my pligbted bride? 

Where is my Liirlie who lovingly clasp'd 
So warmlv these hands bv tlie water's tide? 



Bring her — my darling, who vanish'd from me, 
Oh show her the way to my dying bed; 

She who has crossed the turbulent sea. 
And far from the arms of her lover fled; 

Fondly I'd press her with joy to my breast, 
And kiss once those lips witii an eager will; 

And tell her I loved, and love her the best, 
And that I forgave, and forgive her still. 



54 Fireside Poems. 

Bright was that morning in sweetest of June 
The lily and hyacinth fresh with dew; 

Warbling and chanting in beautiful tune 
Red-robin sang gayly of love that's true. 

Softly I led my betrothed to where 
In beaut}^ uprises the shrine of God; 

Breathing the fragrance of flowerets rare 
We travers'd the pathway by lovers trod. 

She with her diamonds and rubies and pearls, 
And ring which I gave her — a gift of love — 

Stood by my side with her golden-hu'd curls 
Pledg'd vows that were witness'd by God above. 

Lurlie, dear Luriie! my lov'd one; my bride; 

My moments are fleeting and death is nigh; 
Life is fast waning, O fly to my side! 

That I may forgive you before I die. 

* * * * 

A sorrowful dame in a far away town 

'Mid richest of splendor, where she has stray'd; 

Ponders alone as the sun is borne down, 
And thinks of the lover she has betrav'd. 



Lniiie. ~)5 

Gravely she ponders witli tears in her eyes 
While phinning a voyage across the sea 

Back to the mansion, beneath the blue skies 
So dear to the lovers of liberty. 

Hours and days pass speedily on 

In vanishing haste, to return no more; 

Proudly one day on a sunny June morn 

The vessel which bore her touch'd on the shore. 

Clear are the heavens, unclouded and bright, 
And sunbeams are dancing around the gate, 

Kissing the flowers rejoiced by their light; 

In gloom doth her liusband her coming await. 

Sobbing and sighing he writhes in his pain 
And I'renziedly cries with a wand 'ring mind ; 

"Lurlie, Lurlie! turn homeward again! 

Come back to me darling, be true and kind !" 

Slowly and silently opens the door; 

There enters a woman witli wistful eyes; 
Rushes to clasp him — alas! he's no more, 

She shudders; she falls and beside him lies. 



56 Fireside Poems. 



SONS OF LEXINGTON.* 



"Whether upon the scaffold high 

Or in the battle's van, 
The fittest place for man to die 

Is where he dies for man." 



Here lie the "village heroes;" graves 

Of father, son and elder sire, 
Who sank beneath the tidal waves 

Which roam'd the sea of hostile ire. 
Who proudly stood, uninov'd, ehite, 
And bravely met their loyal fate. 
0'er[)0w'r'd in number, true to trust 
They fought and fell, to freedom just. 



* The last stars were vanishing from night when the foremost party, led by Pitcairn, 
a major of marines, was discovered by the husbandmen of Lexington, advancing quick- 
ly in advance. Alarm guns were fired and the drums beat Less than seventy, per- 
haps less than sixty, obeyed the summons, and, in sight of half as many boys and unarm- 
ed men, were paraded in two ranks, a few rods north of the meeting house. The ground 
on which they trod was the altar of freedom, and they were to furnish the victims. 
Pitcairn rode in front of his men. and, when in five or six rods of the minute men. 
cried out: 'Disperse, ye villians! ye rebels, disperse? lay down your arms! why don't 
you lay down your arms and disperse?' The patriots stood motionless in the ranks, 
witnesses against aggression; too few to resist, too brave to fly. At this, Pitcairn d'.s- 
charged a pistol, and with a loud voice cried, 'Fire!' The order was followed by a 
close and deadly discharge of musketry. 

Day came in all the beauty of an early spring. The trees were budding; the grass 
was growing rankly a month before its time; the bluebird and the robin were gladden- 
ing the genial season and calling forth the beams of the sun which on that morning 
shone with the warmth of summer; but distress and horror gathered over the inhabi- 
tants of the little town. There, on the grass, lay in death the grayhaired and the 
young; the grassy field was red 'with the innocent blood of their brethren slain,' cry- 
ing unto God for "vengeance from the ground. Seven of the men of Lexington were 
killed, nine wounded; a quarter part of all who stood in arms on t'le green. These 
are the village heroes, who were of more than noble blood, proving by their spirit that 
they were of a race divine. They gave their lives in testimony to the rights of man- 
icind, bequeathing to their country an assurance of success in the mighty struggle which 
they began.— /<>o?n "Tfie History of the United States," by Bancroft. 



Sons of Lrxingto)!. 57 

Here lie the "village heroes" — bold, 

"Who were of more tlian noble blood ;" 
Long will their praise both sung and told 

Historic page with glory flood. 
"Too few to win, too brave to fly," 
They stood unswerv'd by Pitcairn's cry: 
"Disperse ye villains! ye rebels disperse!" 
They stood as one, for better or worse. 

Here lie the "village heroes" — true, 

Who fell before the fatal fire. 
When bullets of the British slew 

Our martyrs on tliat morning dire; 
Who spill'd the blood to country dear, 
Brave, loyal hearts that knew no fear; 
Those gray hair'd sires and worth}^ sons 
Who fell before the British guns. 

Here lie the "village heroes" — sure, 

Who once our spangl'd banner bore. 
Whose memory will e'er endure 

And be rever'd forevermore. 
And now that they are of the past. 
With glory's mantle 'round them cast, 
Our trust it is to laurels heap 
On honor'd graves, where heroes sleep. 



58 " Fireside Poems. 



A LOVER'S FAREWELL. 



A mighty love to love it is, 

And 'tis a pain that pain to miss ; 

But of all pain, the greatest pain 

It is to love, but love in \edn.— Cowley. 



I only know we loved in vain — 
I oiily feel— Farewell !— Farewell \— Byron. 



HIS LOST DEVOTION. 

Doom'd is the love which bound you unto me; 

Now cut in twain. No! Never can it be 

Renew'd. Lost shall it e'er remain I pray. 

I care not for you any more. 0, May, 

Does not the past come to you like a pest 

And haunt your blissful dreams and mar your rest? 

Does it not phantom-like through mem'ry flash 

And bring- to you remorse for actions rash? 

Do you not think of happy days gone by 

When there was naught to dim a lover's eye; 

When you were young and handsome; and your cheek 

Was sweet and chaste as any rose? I si)eak 

Not thus to-day to give you pain; it is 

Anil always was and shall remain sweet bliss 



^-1 Lover's Farewell. 59 

To me, to have you keep tlie Vjest of health 
And if A'oii can, amass a mammoth wealth; 
But never can I, and, on this depend, 
Behold in you my all — my bosom friend. 

Oh madly I once lov'd you, but alas! 

The time is past and quickly did it pass; 

The sparkling- <iem which once made bright your eye 

Has disappear'd. I shall never try 

In future days to win you any more. 

For you were false, and likewise as before 

You might deceive me; then I should repent 

And curse myself that I could thus relent. 

No! Go your way, and I shall ever mine. 

A|iproach me not; go kneel at Mercy's shrine! 

Beseech her to take pity on you, go! 

If she refuse then reaj) just as you sow. 

Go seek some other man who will caress 

You; and, in passion's thrall your form will j)ress. 

He will believe in you as I can ne'er, 

For it was love I sought; I did not care 

For any such I'omantic sport as might 

Make you seem [)recious in his lustful sight. 

Tliei'e was a time when I could well li.iye died 
To clasp you as my own — my cherish'd l)ride — 



()() Fireside Poems. 

But all my love for you has quickly fled, 
And in my heart, I now behold you dead. 
Your feigned love, wiiich to mo you did bring, 
Has pass'd away and left its poignant sting. 
When I believ'd you pure and strictly true 
And all my dearest hopes were set on you, 
By your pretended love I was deceiv'd ; 
O'er your false life most sorely have I griev'd. 

HIS LAMENTATION. 

Ten years have pass'd since I last gaz'd on you; 
Ten years have pass'd since I bade you adieu; 
Yet, as time flies and life is on the wane, 
My mind oft wanders back to you again. 
When we were lovers and together stray'd 
Through balmy dales in search of flow'rs. Obey'd 
We then each other's will, each fond request; 
What one preferr'd the other counted best. 
How often you did crown my curly head 
With wreaths of flow'rs, forget-me-nots, and red 
Flu'd roses, wiiile I kiss'd you, then my love — 
You were my all to me — my bonny dove. 

No man did ever love you more than I, 
Wlio read the pent up passions in your eye; 



.1 I.om-'i^ Fdrcivvll. 61 

Those ])assioDS — ciiisc them! — which o'erpow'r the weak 

And (Irao- them down to haunts the vicious seek; 

Yet no advantage would I take of one 

Mote precious then than aught beneath the sun. 

I could not brook the base unworthy act 

Which brings to shame a virgin heart. In fact 

I hold, that he who'd harbor such a deed 

Is a disgrace unto the vilest breed 

Of reptiles, and a bitter curse to all; 

Then in return should curses on him fall. 



Just when I dai-'d to claim you as a bride 

And lead you to the altar to be tied 

In wedlock, 'twas to my dismay I found 

You had betray'd me; madden'd by the wound 

I fiercely tore my hair and wildly rav'd; 

So wreck'd was I my life was hardly sav'd. 

Go forth into the world and you will find, 

Wherever social ties the people bind, 

Just such a villain as the one I cite 

Who snatch'd from me my idol and delight. 

Who read as I Jiad read in days of yore 

The signs of passions that you held in store 

For him who'd win at last your heart and hand 

And gain the right their powers to command. 



()2 Fireside Poems. 

Long had I woo'd you and through love complied 
With virtue's rules. But oh! Too soon I spied 
A rival. He had triumph'd over me 
And won the heart of her I thought would be 
My bride. To me was left but vain regret, 
You prov'd me false, your wedding day was set. 

CONCLUSION. 

Great God! Why did I ever live to see 
The day when she, who gladly vovv'd to be 
My bride, would ihus be borne, oh, far away 
By wrongful hands? If I have err'd, I [)ray 
That she'll forgive ine, for my will is weak 
Through loss of her whom I did fondly seek. 
She, whom I lov'd, and would have died to save 
From being harm'd or driven to an early grave 
Bv cruel deeds, has long forsaken me. 
To wed a tiend — a very scoundrel. He 
P^rom her will lake all that is pure and true, 
Then cast her off— as villains often do — 
When she lias lost what she can ne'er reclaim 
A virtuous heart; a cliaste, unblemish'd name. 

O ruthless fiend with heart so vile and sere 
Who from mv fond end)race tore one so dear 



TIk- SiiJdur Biji/'>i Reprieve. 53 

Unto the curse of your forsaken wife 
I add the curse of m>' embitter'd life. 
And you, once idol of my heart and pride 
In days gone by, who did your love confide 
Unto a fiend, the sorrows he has brought 
'i'o you are quite enough, I curse you not. 

Farewell my old time love! This is the last 
I'll say. We'll bury now the hopeless past; 
And as I stroll where once two lovers stray'd, 
I'll think of her who once ray heart betray'd ; 
And so I'll onward plod my lonely way, 
Rememb'ring you — a hope of 3'esterday. 



THE SOLDIER BOY'S REPRIEVE. 

Upon a scaffold tow'ring high 
Thoy led the pris'ner forth to die, — 
A child, for he was nothing more; 
The make-up of a youth he bore; 
And with a step — a manly one — 
That well becomes a hero son. 
Between two stalwart guards he walk'd 
Undaunted still, and calmlv talk'd. 



64 Fireside Poems. 

When oil the "drop" he stood erect, 
No sign of fear could they detect; 
The stately scaffold slightly shook, 
His eyes were fix'd ; a far off look 
Betray'd he thought or partly knew 
Some messenger would come in view. 

"Three minutes more!" the sentry cried 
In nervous voice, close by his side ; 
But there he stood to peril nerv'd, 
Beneath the eyes of One he serv'd. 
A stillness crept o'er all the crowd ; 
Spell-bound they stood nor spoke aloud. 

* * * * 

A messengei' brook 'd no delay ; 
His foaming steed s[)ed on its way, 
For all depended on that steed, 
Should he arrive, Paul would be freed. 
On, on he came! 'Twas life or death! 
They saw him and they held their breath ; 
So anxious were they, one and all. 
To know if there was hope for Paul. 

"Two minutes more the sentry cried; 
Grave silence reign'd on ev'rv side; 



A Mother's Parting Plea. 60 

His only hope was in that steed 

Which hasten'd on with light'ning speed. 

The moments flew — the strain'd eyes flash'd — 

As on his way the horseman dash'd 

O'er rocky roads, with bounding gait, 

For ev'ry moment held his fate. 

"One minute more!" the sentry cried, 
And quickly then the noose was tied, 
The fatal cap conceal'd his face; 
His hands, behind, were bound in place. 

"Hold there!" the horseman loudly cried. 
The crowd gave way on ev'ry side; 
The air was fill'd with sliouts of joy ; 
Repriev'd was Paul the Soldier Boy. 



A MOTHER'S PARTING PLEA. 

How well do I remember the ev'ning we were wed, 
'Twas in the month of Aju-il, the light of (hiy had fled; 
The shades of night li;id fallen and usher'd into sight 
The stars in all tln-ir splendor — the watchmen of the night. 



()() Fireside Poems. 

I lov'd you ! I adoT\l you when life to me was dear, 

And shar'd with you each secret; the joy, the hope, the 

fear. 
You lov'd me, yes, you lov'd me, but not with pure desires, 
Love vanish'd like the twilight when fading day expires. 



Yes, take the farm Augustus, all else we now enjoy ; 
But one thing leave, oh leave me! and that is Joe our boy; 
My heart is nearly breaking ; 'twill break it, aye I know, 
If you should claim and take him — my darling baby Joe. 

Have you a heart Augustus? If so, why do you spurn 
To grant this only favor — the babe for which I yearn? 
Remember you are trifling with patience, if you err 
The blame is on your shoulders — the worst that may occur 

Then once more I implore you ! — curse me with your 

hate! 
But give to me my darling! Why do you hesitate? 
I reach my arms to take him ; you press them both away ; 
He answers: "Mamma! Mamma!!" Oh give him up, I 

pray ! 

And so you still resist me witli cruelty and scorn? 

think. O thii]k Augustus, that morning Joe was born. 



Rescued. 67 

How merrily and (juiekly our hearts botli beat with joy 
As to your breast you press'd him, our first and only boy. 

Augustus, Augustus! speak gently ere we part; 

God but this is fearful; 'twill break, 'twill break my 

heart 
To leave this house forever and leave my child behind 
To live and toil for others; my God! I'm going blind! 

My sight is surely failing; I reel! I'm going wild! 
God lead me to my darling; my onl}', only child! 

1 hear a voice — I quiver I — a summons from the grave! 
My God ! — my senses leave me, I die — my baby save ! 



RESCUED. 

The building is settling in ruins, 

The flames clamber up to the sky ; 
O'ercome with excitement and danger, 

The mother sends upward her cry; 
"Oh, Father of love and of pity," 

(The accents are piercing and wild) 
"Oh, send us an angel of mercy, 

To rescue my perishing child!" 



G8 Fireside Poems. 

A ladder is skillfully hoisted ; 

A fireman ascends it with haste ; 
They see him go in at the window — 

There's scarcely a moment to waste ; 
They're watching with deepest of anguish, 

They anxiously wait his return ; 
The flames soon envelope the window, 

And nothing of him they discern. 

A moment of dreadful confusion, 

Then follows a series of cheers ; 
Half strangl'd but bearing the baby. 

The fireman in triumph appears. 
He slips down the tottering ladder ; 

The danger is over and past. 
"Thank God!" cries the overjoy 'd mother, 

"My darling is with me at last!" 



WHO KNOWS? 

Who knows to what he may aspire in years to be? 

The ragi^ed lad wlio roams our streets from morn till 
night, 
The or[)lian boy, the waif that braves the surging sea, 

May rise and to the world become a beacon light. 



wild Knows f (lil 

The poorest boy with active mind may see tlie day 
When he will rank a gallant, noble, trusty man; 

And at his feet great nations, choicest trilnites lay. 
While ranking hini amono- the foremost of the van. 



Tliere is a goal set out for ev'ry one. 'Tis true 
That some arc destin'd for a grander, better life ; 

But he who nobly toils as humble martyrs do, 
^\^ill conquer and a hero' be amid the strife. 

This world is very large, and no man need confine 
Himself to any rank, or station, or degree; 

'Tis his to trust and humbly bow at Honor's shrine — 
And take the gift im[)artial Justice may decree. 

We hope, but oh too often do we hope in vain ; 

We grasp, but only grasp to find it is too late. 
With l)leeding wounds we rise all nerv'd up to the strain 

And try once more, to only learn again our fate. 

We often moui'ii because we cannot grasp the prize 
For which we yearn. Alas! we sink in vain des[)air; 

We might have won, had we but sought the goal that lies 
W^ithiii our reach and loil'd with patience and with care. 



70 Fireside Poems. 



RIVERSIDE.* 

This is the place. Behold the massive gate 

Through whose wide portals pass the dead, to sleep 

Until tluit day when all must meet their fate; 
To slumber in tlieir tombs so dark and deep 

Beneath the grass where they once softly trod; 

The burial ground and "Acre of our God.'' 

We wander in, close by a quiet lake 

Fed by a fountain with its silv'ry spray; 

Where gay sunbeams like fairies dance and shake, 
And snow-white swans go sailing 'round in play. 

While passing on, strange memories arise 

As we take tliought of scenes before our eyes. 

Here close at hand grand monuments appear 
In marble, granite, stone of ev'ry hue; 

And by them graves of those whom we liold dear, 
Tlie sepulclires of friends l)oth tried and true. 

We stop and read names carv'd with cafeful skill 

Of faliier, mother, child, remember'd still. 

* The Marshalltovvn cemetery bordering on the Iowa river and facing southward. 



^1 Legend of Arizona. 71 

Then j)assing on, we lialt beside a stream; 

There on the bluff and gazing down we see 
The Sjiarkling Iowa as in a dream 

Go tlowing by so merrily and free; 
And this is where upon a summer day 
1 love to rest and while the hours awav. 



A LEGEND OF ARIZONA. 

The sun came glowing o'er the hills 
And peep'd in through the cabin door 

Where father, mother, little child 
Were breakfasting in days of yore. 

Five savages in native garb 

Who lov'd their tomahawks to wield, 
Crept slowly from behind the rocks, 

Where they since daybreak lay conceal'd 

The babe sat playing w^ith its blocks 
Before the door which stood ajar; 

When, with a flash a tomahawk 
Flew at it like a shootino; star. 



72 Fireside Poems. 

The scout well knew it was too late 
To close the door; so, with a bound 

He grabb'd his rifle — drew a bead — 
And stretch'd a savage on the ground. 

But scarce a moment had ensued 
Ere five red demons leap'd within 

And fully arm'd (with glaring eyes) 
Began their fiendish work of sin. 

It was a struggle fierce for life^ 
A desperate and awful fight ; 

But b}' their brave, heroic skill 
They })ut their enemies to flight. 

The wild assailants fled dismay 'd. 
Took refuge in the distant hills; 

Among the nxtks and tlirough the glades 
Their war-cry echoed o'er tiie rills. 

"Be quick my dear!" the father said, 
"To yonder cave we now must flee; 

We know not when they may return 
To satisfy their hellish glee." 



A Legend of Arizona. 73 

The mother witli her niiirder'd babe; 

The scout with rifle on his arm : 
With Imrried footsteps sought the cave, 

A refuge from the red-men's harm. 



I must return," he quickly cried, 

"Plere is my gun and cartridge sack; 

Now keep good watch for those red-skins, 
In just five minutes I'll be back." 

"Good by!" he said, she clos'd the door, 

Secured it with a timber stout. 
Then through a loop-hole, gun in hand, 

She watch'd the quickly flying scout. 

She saw him go within tiie hut, 
A moment pass'd, then out again: 

"If he can only reach this cave!" 

She murmur'd and scarce breath'd she then. 

For ev'ry minute seem'd an hour 
As he sped quickly on his way; 

When just within a score of yards 
His gallant doom was seal'd for aye. 



74 ^ Fireside Poems. 

Almost within her reach he fellj 
A single gasp and all was o'er; 

She would have flown unto his side, 
But well she knew he was no more. 



How dreadful was her agony; 

Pier murder'd babe lay by her side; , 
Her only aid lay cold in death. 

"What shall 1 do!" she wildly cried. 

Like hungr}' wolves the red-men came 

To satisfy tiieir cruel greed, 
They burn'd the hut, then quickl_y turn'd 

To finish up their hellish deed. 

The mother knew her time had come. 
Courageously she stood her ground; 

The Reds advanc'd; she airn'd and fired. 
Once! twice!! they fell with telling sound 

Away! away!! like startled deer 
Tiie rest in terror quickly fled; 

No time had they to stop and see 
Or gather uj) their tawny dead. 



.-I Legend of Arizoiut. 75 

The}' found it not an easy task 

To face a single battery, 
And so — to carry out tlieir i)lot — 

They shortly took to strategy. 

They gather'd 'round the tiniber'd cave 

And begg'd her to unbar the door 
And come out so that they might see 

The pale-faced-warrior's squaw once more. 

But all their coaxing ])rov'd in vain 

l^'or she was master of the cave ; 
They did not dare an entrance force 

Defended by the fairest "brave." 

At last disgusted they withdrew — 

Departed with the setting sun, 
And darkness clos'd the tragedy — 

Their havoc for that day was done. 

All night the mother with her babe 
Lay still within that dungeon cave ; 

For her a prison, for her child 
A strange and temporary grave. 



Fireside Poems. 

When daylight enter VI on the scene, 
It brought the hist day's horrors back ; 

She op'd the door, threw up both arms, 
Rnsli'd forth a raving nKiniac. 



As on his weary, lonely path 

A hunter chanc'd to pass that way, 

He heard a faint and moaning sound, 
And turning saw to his dismay: 

Tliere stretch'd upon the grass in death 
Two lifeless bodies cold and pale. 

While bending o'er them in her grief 
A woman sat — this ends the tale — 

l\o hurried to her as she bow'd 

Her head and kissed them with a moan, 
Hut 'twas too late, she chis'd her eyes 

For sight and consciousness had flown. 

There with a spade, and side by side, 
He laid them in their grave to rest; 

The murder'd father and his wife, 
The babv on its mother's breast. 



RecoJfecfioits of m;/ Tentlrr Youth. 



RECOLLECTIONS OE MY TENDER YOUTH. 



"Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows. 

While proudly riding o'er the azure realm 
In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes ; 

Youth on tht prow, and pleasure at the helm ; 
Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway. 
That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his ev'ning's prey."— 0»-«,i/. 



Aye, swiftly tlie .sands through the hour ghiss are falling, 

As quickly we speed on our uiissioiis each day; 
'Mid moments of silence, or turmoil, or passion, 

We hasten along till our youth fades away. 
Aye, fades like the flowers so dainty and charming, 

Alas! wlifii they forfeit their rarest perfume, 
And pass through the portals of richness and splendor, 

And vanish forever to rest in the tomb. 

Ah! gay do the scenes of our innocent childhood 

Through Memory's portals come flitting with cheer; 
The fond recollections of parents and lov'd ones; 

The homes of our youth and our playmates so dear. 
Oh, yes! I can picture that home of contentment, 

A. little rough shanty close by the way-side; 
With cracks in the walls, through which snow kept a 
drifting. 

While cold was the winter that rallied outside. 



78 Fireside Poem.9. 

I see by the hearth-stone, my dear parents sitting 

In deep meditation, in silence profound; 
The fire brightly glowing; and now as I listen 

I hear the wolves howling with hideous sound. 
I hear the winds roaring! Like some monster demon 

The storm madly clashes against the frail shell. 
How little they know, who reside in a palace, 

Of troubles and cares tliat with poverty dwell. 

Methinks I am plodding the very same pathway — 

O'er valley and hill to the old district school — 
Across the clear brook, where in innocent childhood 

I travers'd its banks where the zephyrs blew cool. 
All! there is the teacher, whose words kind and tender 

Still ring in my ears, as I mournfully sigh 
While slowly reviewing tliose many bright faces 

Of schoolmates who've vanish'd as years pass'd us by. 

But time is the wooer of many vast changes; 

Each day is a witness of something anew; 
And soon we're aware of tlie time that is fleeting 

And hasten to bid youth a final adieu. 
Adieu! oh svveet youth with thy many past pleasures; 

Farewell to that shanty my long cherish'd home; 
Farewell to my teacher, those many bright faces; 

Farewell to the meadows where oft di<l I roam! 



Soldierx^ Ifomc Dedirnfion. 



SOLDIERS' HOME DEDICATION.* 

Respectfully dedicated to the Grand Army of the Republic. 

'Tis to-day with pride we gather, 
From the counties near and distant, 
For the .sacred dedication 
Of a structure nobly grand ; 
'Througli whose {)ortals flock the hundreds- 
Eager eyed, with hearts rejoicing — 
To behold in all its beauty 
This glad tribute of our land. 

Some have deem'd it most imprudent 
To erect a costly mansion 

For the brave and loyal vet'rans 
Who have serv'd us in the past; 
But they surely are deserving. 
And it is our bounden duty 

To j)rovide for those who struggl'd 
Proudly conquering at last. 

* Read at the G. A. R. hall, Wednesday evening, November 30th, 1887. 



80 Fireside Poetnfi. 

Stop and think my worthy brothers! 
Can there be amid our number, 
Any one who's now unwilling 
JSuch a home to give the brave, 
Who went forth into the battle — 

Left behind tlieir homes and kindred — 
To preserve unstain'd those colors, 
Which to-day so proudly wave? 

What a blessing 'tis, my people, 
That to-night we can assemble 
Here beneath a roof of honor, 
In our gallant solders' home 
Rear'd on freedom's soil by justice. 
Near a bright and thriving cit}', 
Waving thence a friendly greeting 
To her handsome court-house dome. 

Let us judge the past and present; 
What a contrast, my brothers! 

Since the troubl'd times of Lincoln — 
Dreary days of slavery. 
When our heroes march'd together. 
Bravely stood in line of hattle 

'Midst the din of shell and cannon; 
Fought so well for you and me. 



iSoldiers' Home Dedication. 81 

Think of all the cruel hardships, 
All the grim and dread privations, 
All the suffering and anguish 

Which went with them through the strife; 
None deserve the praise and glory 
And the suffrage of a Nation 

More than they wlio fought for country 
And for it imperil'd life. 

'Tvv'as a struggle, not for lucre; 
Not for glory, fame or honor; 
But the welfare of a Nation, 
And the mighty cause of right; 
And when rang the call for action. 
Came they forth from farm and city 
And with cannon, gun and sabre 
March'd on eager for the fight. 

Gallant boys were they and steady; 
Loyal to the cause of freedom ; 

Dauntless men of strength and courage 
Fighting 'neatb the flag, we love; 
Spotless as the cloudless heavens, 
Pure and radiant as the sunshine, 

With its stripes and stars still honor'd 
All the land it floats above. 



82 Fireside Poems. 



BY THE SEA. 

what are the breakers telling? 

Telling, telling! telling!! 
what are the breakers telling? 
Telling the tales of the lov'd and lost 
Father and mother and eliild once toss'd — 
Whose spirits are hovering over the waves 
Which dashing and surging roll over their graves- 

That is the story tliey're telling 

O what are the sea gulls crying? 

Crying, crying! crying!! 
what are the sea gulls crying! 
Crying the news of some iron clad — 
Gored and sunk in a sea so mad — 
Which vanish'd forever to rise no more, 
Tliougli billows nniy roll and the tempests roar, 

That is tlie news they ar(^ crying. 

what are the sea winds whispering? 

Whisp'ring, whisp'ring! whisp'ring! ! 
() what are the sea winds whis[)'ring? 
\Vhis[)ering words of a drowning crew 



A Morning in Jvne. SS 

Struggling for life in the fathomless blue, 
Whose perishing cries caught the winged gales 
Which bring us the tune of their dying wails. 
That is the message they're whisp'ring. 



A MORNING IN JUNE. 

I gaze out through my window on the lawn 

Towards the mill; 
The sun comes peeping o'er the trees for it is dawn- 
God's sacred will; 
The dewdrops glisten on the grass, 
The herd-boys, shouting, by me pass; 
And o'er the fields of rip'ning corn 
Break far the symbols of the morn. 

The sky is clear; refresliing seems the air 

And green the sod; 
I look! Behold the grandeur ev'ry where — 
The work of God; 
The birds sing gayly in the trees. 
And to the soul of one who sees' 
The buried beauty in each thing 
Is })lain tlie song I love to sing. 



84 Fireside Pocmft. 



The morning breeze blows softly as it starts, 

And zephyrs fleet 
Bear gently on their wings from distant ])arts 
A fragrance sweet; 
Bright foLir-o'clocks of varied hue 
The ivy vines are gleaming through: 
And hollyhocks with blossoms gay 
Adorn the path where oft I stray. 



AFFECTION'S LINK. 

There is a link which joins two lives as one, 
That in life's course they may together run, 
Which lias existed ever since the time 
When Adam hrst met Eve in Eden's clime 
And disol)ey'd — her sinful taste to suit — 
By plucking tliere, the Lord's forbidden fruit. 

Tis born with us, but leaves us when we die 
A thing of pow'r, but hidden from ihe eye; 
An Isthmus — if 1 (hire hut term it so — 
Which joins our 'hearts in happiness or woe. 



Axioms. 8'5 

With fatal aim fair Cupid Hies his dart 
Across the space to pierce each waiting heart. 

It was for trifling with this link in vain 

The Island-she[)herd Acis once was slain 

By Polyphemus — which made Bapta bow 

Her head in shame and smooth her timid brow; 

And so it was that Byblis, love's adept, 

Hert^clf for Caunus into a fountain wept. 

It is a something which unites our hearts, 
And when it leaves a woful life it starts; 
It is a link bestow'd by God above; 
Affection's link, the precious gift of love. 



AXIOMS. 

A noble deed; an action wrought; 
A nation mov'd to solemn thought. 

A skillful hand; a drop of ink; 
The mass is mov'd to weep or think. 

A pensive mind ; a noble strain ; 
A pow'r is held o'er this domain. 



86 Fireside Poems. 

A chaste desire; a purer cause; 
A nation hails with wide applause. 

A modest girl; a manly boy; 
A father's pet; a mother's joy. 

A cheerful home; a household kind; 
Will breed no grief, leave none behind. 

A loyal wife; a husband true; 

As one will pass life's journey through. 

When friendship dies, and love has fled, 
Forevermore the heart is dead. 



TOBOGGANING. 

I have slid uj)on a shovel down a snow-crust mountain 

side; 
I hove slid upon a coaster down a {)ath both smooth iuid 

wide; 
I have slid upon a hand-sled. You may think it very 

queer, 
But I've slid, I ween, most ev'ry way except upon my ear. 
Yet, of all the sports and sliding — laying ev'rything aside — 
None compare in rapid transit with the ice toboggan slide. 



The Wonderful Land 87 

1 have slid on Norway snow-shoes — slid so fast I couldn't 

see; 
I have rid on Hudson ice hoats as they swept along so 

free ; 
I have rid on mile-a-minute trains with light'ning speed 

and roar ; 
And I've often slid in boyhood, down the sloi)ing cellar 

door. 
Yet. I'll wager it with [deasure that of all the kinds I've 

tried — 
None compare in rapid transit with the ice toboggan slide. 



THE WONDERFUL LAND. 

Is there in the distance beyond our sight 
An Eden where liveth the soul a-new? 

Where's never :i sorrow our hearts to blight, 
And death ne'er enters and hearts are true? 

If so, I am eager to join the throng 

And wander transfigur'd through streets of gold; 
Oh when can I garner the gifts I long 

To reaj) in that haven of bliss untold? 



88 Fireside Poems. 

My mind is enthrall'd with fond desire; 
My soul is impatient to homeward wing 

Its llight on the pinions whieli never tire- 
To meet in His glory the Mighty King. 



SUPPOSE A MAN HAS ERRED? 

Because a man unwittingly has err'd in life or gone astray, 
Should he be scorn'd, condemn'd and left alone to grope 

his lonely way? 
Should he be censured, spurn 'd by all, before the facts are 

known as true? 
Suppose he has thus err'd; give unto him all tliat to hin^ 

is due. 
Be not too willing to accuse, lest you be Iripp'd up, in 

your haste 
To injure one whose character has borne no blemish — truly 

chaste. 
A lawyer told me once: "My father said to me, wlien but 

an elf, 
My lad : See all you can ; hear all you caii ; but keep it 

to yourself.'" 



Svpp()-'<e A Man //rr.s Ernd. 89 

I tiiul that luaxiifi good, and I believe were it more used 
l.y all, 

'Twould oft prevent a harmful word which time, nor love 
can ne'er recall. 

Don't be too ready with your broom to brush a neighbor's 
faults, before 

You've cleanly swept without, the dirt that lies around in- 
side your door. 

Don't scorn a man beciuse he's poor; refuse to aid him 
when in need ; 

You may be glad some day to clean his walk and from his 
cupboard feed. 

No nuui can ever climb -so high, or win such credit or re- 
nown, 

But that the tides of fortune may reverse his course and 
bring him down. 

Again I say: Suppose a man has err'd? Is it a christian 
act 

To keep him down because of errors past, if he would but 
retract ? 

Should he be ridiculed by prattling fools, who think them- 
selves earth gods 

Placed here to regulate our daily walk? Not so by any 
odds! 

Earth is our home; here must we all abide; here must we 
live or die. 



90 Fireside Poems. 

O geiVrous soul who pardons and forgives the erring one; 

doth try 
To overlook his petty faults, and willing hands doth ever 

lend, 
To you will he in trouble bow ; to you, true friendship 

will extend. 
Once more I say: Suppose a man has err'd? Don't try to 

crush him down. 
Give him the chance to prove himself superior to an ape 

or clown. 
In days to come — by {)atient toil — he may to brilliant hon- 
ors rise, 
And you be proud to recognize ii] him, the man you now 

despise. 



WHEN FROM THIS EARTH MY SPIRIT'S FLOWN. 

When from this earth my spirit's flown 

And I've obey'd the will of God; 
Give me no tomb of costly sti)ne, 

But grant me one of common sod; 
Thei'e unmolested let me rest, 

And undisturb'd by ])assing years; 
While those dear friends who love me best, 

Drop on my grave their silent tears. 



Delia's Christmas Dream. 91 



BELLA'S CHRISTMAS DREAM. 

Down the path of recollection drifts a story to my mind, 
That of Annie and dear Willie and their papa so unkind ; 
How he treated them so strangely with the words he harsh- 
ly said ; 
How lie listen'd to their pleadings as each pray'd heside 

the hed. 
How they })ray'd to God that Santa would them many 

presents bring- 
How they plead so long and earnest — and their pa heard 

ev'rything; 
How he stole awa}' so slyly after they were fast asleep, 
Brought them liome what they had pray'd for — placed them 

tliere, all in a heap. 
How they woke out of their slumbers — and their great 

surprise and joy — 
Ev'rything was there they'd asked for, even to the smallest 

toy; 
How they shouted for their "papa" to come fjuickly in and 

see 
Wliat dear Santa Claus had brought them; all in answer 

to their plea. 
And that story oft reminds me of a little girl of yore. 



02 Fireside Poems. 

Who had read tliat I'ainous legend, half a hundred times 

or more; 
And if you will give attention, I will tell you here to-night, 
All about her chat with ISanta, and her lovely dream, so 

bright. 

* * * * 

'Tvvas C'hristmas Eve, when little Delia, after of}''ring up a 
prayer, 

Lay her head upon her pillow — wearied with her childish 
care ; 

Thinking of the grand to-morrow — of its promised Christ- 
mas joys, 

Of the dear and kind old Santa with his mammoth stock 
of toys. 

And her kind and loving mother, after kissing her good- 
night. 

Softly stepp'd out of the bed-room, bearing in her hand the 
light; 

And ere long the world was Cjuiet, save the clattering of 
feet 

Made by some belated trav'ler passing 'long the- lonely 
street. 

Thus, she lay in meditation — thinking of dear Santa 
Claus— 

Till her mind was lost to reason and her thoughts came to 
a pause. 



Delias CJirlstmaH Dream. 93 

Tlu'ii she uandcrM nil to (Ireamlaud — dreani'd that Santa 

made a call, 
And she ask'd him several questions and he kindly an- 

swer'd all. 
How he cramm'd her little stockings with nice candies, 

})retty toys. 
While he laugh'd and told in earnest, how he lov'd good 

girls and boys; 
How he slighted all the bad ones, " 'cause," he said, "it 

does not pay 
Me to give unto the wicked boys and girls who don't obey." 
And he said, "if you'll be patient, good nnd kind — you 

need not fear! 
Dear old Santa will remember you, when going 'round 

next 3'ear." 
Then he softly left her chamber, and her vision pass'd 

away ; 
And the darkness turnVl to sunshine and the night into 

the day. 

* * * * 

It was morning when sweet Delia, woke out of her hai)[iy 

dream, 
And she rubb'd her eyes in wonder, for, to her it did not 

seem 
Right, that Santa Claus should slight her, after all he'd 

done and said, 



94 Fireside Poems. 

And she rais'd up otf her pillow — hopp'd out of her coz}- 

bed. 
Such a grand surprise, I fancy, Delia never had before; 
There were candies, laces, jewels, and of other things a 

score; 
And she danced around and shouted — then there was a 

gentle pause; 
Two sweet, prattling lips were busy thanking God and 

Santa Claus. 

l'envoi. 

Listen ! all you blessed children, let it bear upon your 

mind : 
Dear old Santa only visits boys and girls who're good and 

kind ; 
And dear little ones, remember God is watching all your 

ways ; 
And if God be surely willing, Santa Claus His will obeys. 

Now, before I close my story, I will gladly say to you: 
Mr.y your Christmas come like Delia's, and your dreams as 

pure and true; 
For, when Santa Claus gets ready, o'er the snowy fields 

he'll fly. 
Now look out! Old Santa's coming; that is all dear 

friends. Good-by! 



Onward ! 95 



ONWARD ! 

There's notliing conquered in tliis world, by sitting still 

and looking on ; 
If 'tis your aim to wear a crown, get up and to your task 

be gone! 
You say: "I'ln poor, a helpless boy unbless'd, like some 

with wealtli and lore?" 
Why loiter thus in vain despair? there's always ample 

room for more. 

Our wisest and most noble men once liv'd within the hum- 
blest homes; 

To-day, their names are s[)arkling gems upon life's lol'ty 
spires and domes! 

They ran a race which we must run, if we life's laurel 
crowns would wear; 

Each be a monarch on a throne — a hero's honor'd title bear 

The statesman, with his ink and pen, has caus'd the world 

to rise and sink — 
One day we're held in dread suspense, the next, cumpell'd 

to weep and think. 
When all are sound asleep — at rest — with miglity pen, 

they're toiling hard, 



90 Fireside Poems. 

(Thus, has it been from nge to age) the statesman and the 
tuneful bard ! 

Map out a path which you would tread — one which may 

lead you to success ; — 
Then with a ivill bear well the test, and do not heed 

your humbleness, 
The time will come when you may yet (if you would tri- 

um{)h, persevere,) 
Rise from your lowdy state in life, up to a grander, nobler 

sphere. 

Though some deride your faithful work, nnd heap ou you 

their bitter scorn, 
Turn not your course, but laboi' on, a day ne'er dawn'd 

without a morn. 
High on the dazzling tow'r of fame, a golden scroll waits 

those who will 
With patient toil, and ceaseless aim, inscribe their names 

with magi(.' quill. 



When man becomes so lost to Duty's way 

That he forgets j)ure mituro to obey, 

He stands upon the brink of vain despair, 

A stream which lures him on — we know not where. 



1 ])i'eatii of Iloiiit. 97 



A DREAM OF HOME. 



Who has not felt how sadly sweet 
The dream of home, the dream of home, 

Steals o'er the heart, too soon to fleet, 
When far o'er sea or land we roam "i— Moore. 



There is a song I love to sing which I will sing to-day; 

I'm thinking of my childhood home, where I was wont to 
play, 

Around whose liearthhre gathered there — within that hum- 
ble fold, 

Were parents and their children dear in by-gone days of 
old. 

No place on earth is there so lov'd, as was that cottage 
home — 

AVliich stood beside a country lane — without such walls 
and dome 

As mark the palaces renown'd for art and beauty rare, 

Whose grandeur charms the trav'ler's eye witli grace be- 
yond comj)are. 

Unto my mem'ry come glad thoughts of those whom 1 

revere — 
And I glance back through mists of years and softly shed 
. a tear — 



08 Fireside Poems. 

While I survey each countenance asi fancy })ictures each — 

give them back to me again. Great God, I do beseech! 

But, lo! long years have hid them from my vision, and 
forlorn 

1 walk the busy earth with pain, and for them daily 

mourn — 
Though trusting faithfully that I in some far distant day 
Will walk eternally with them, and share their joys for 

aye. 



SONG OF THE WASH-WOMAN. 

It's wash, wash, wash the livelong day, 

And iron, iron, iron all night; 
I earn my living honestly, 

And live a life upright. 

Ten years ago, who would have dream 'd these hands 

would ever know 
The heavy toil they daily bear in a world of wealth and 

woe? 
Who would have thought this brow would ever be ting'd 

with "care? Oh, my! 



SoiKJ nj flic ]]}lsji-ir(,iii(lii. 99 

Thank God our lives don't always last and our cares die 
when we die. 

Nobody knows or even thinks of the wars I have to fight ; 
It's wash, wash, wash, and iron, iron, iron from morning 

until night; 
No matter whether sick or well, I must labor hard each 

day. 
For all depends on what I earn, as my living is my pay. 

I have a little boy named Joe; he is all I have on earth; 
It's just eight years ago to-day since his mother gave him 

birth. 
He was his father's little i)et and he is his mother's joy; 
God knows I dearly love my babe, oh my darling Joe — 

my boy. 

Had Charlie liv'd and kept his health, what a diff'rent 

world 'twould be? 
Perhaps we should be dwelling now in a iiome of luxury; 
But as it is, I'm all alone with a child to clothe and feed, 
God sparing me to live for him, he shall never go in need. 

There is one thing I'm bound shall be — 'tis a cause on 
which I'm bent; 



100 Fireside Poems. 

I'm bound to educate my child if it takes my ev'ry cent; 
I love him! oh, I love my child with a love no deeds can 

show; 
I'll toil for him; I'd die for him; oh, my darling boy — my 

Joe. 



NIGHT. 



Ah ! sweet the close of dying day. 

When in the far off gilded valley 
The sun's bright rays soon fade away. 

And Nox, his brilliant host does rally. 
The stars in all their splendor shine 

Down through the a/Aire pure and deep; 
The air grows cool; the night divine 

Holds Nature in her arms, asleep. 

Across the sky amidst the stars, 

Dart meteors with lightning speed, 
Propell'd across the zenith's bars, 

Like missiles from a cannon freed. 
And })eaceful earth and glovving skies, 

Bear witness to a Kuling Hand 
Whose wondrous skill, before our eyes 

Spreads scenes we cannot understand. 



After Twenty Years. 101 



AFTER TWENTY YEARS. 

This is the house — my dear old cottage home — 

To me of priceless worth ; 

The cottage of my birth, 
Amid these woodlands where I used to roam ; 
Where thriv'd the thrush, the blue-bird, Robin-Red ; 
The wild hoot-owl presiding high o'erhead ; 
The swift-wing'd finch, the woodcock, tiny wren 
Besides a host of creatures present then : 
Such as the squirrel, cayote, glossy mole, 
The crusty wolf — each burrow'd in his hole — 
The nimble rabbit and the rattle-snake — 
The sight of which would make tlie strongest quake. 
Ai]d there were flow'rs of ev'ry shape and hue; 
The hyacinth, primrose and jump-up, too, 
With Pulpit-jack presiding o'er the host 
Of Nature's gems wo loved and cherish'd most. 

Far have I traveled over sea and land, 
I've view'd the classic sights on ev'ry hand, 
I've seen the broad Atlantic deeply heave, 
And heard the wild Pacific moan and grieve; 
And northward from the Gulf of Mexico 
To Canada, did I a pilgrim go. 



102 Fireside Poems. 

I visited all places of renown, 

From largest city to the smallest town ; 

I've seen them all — strange sights of ev'ry kind — 

The works of nature, art, and both combined. 

Lost in the streets of Rome, o'ercome with dread, 
I sought in vain a place to rest my head ; 
It seem'd as though the city's crowded life 
Had turn'd against me in the wildest strife; 
Two days I suffer'd ere I found a friend 
To counsel me and his assistance lend; 
But iiere I am: Am 1 alive or not? 
Things are so chang'd around tliis precious spot. 
Is this a dream, or fact, that comes to me? — 
Half dead, half living 'neath this acorn tree; — 
Return'd here after twenty weary years 
Of wand'ring life, to shed these bitter tears 
On this dear si-ot, where, when I was a boy 
I romping play'd and shouted in my joy. 

I see once more the dearest spot on earth. 
The loved old home and cottage of my birth ! 
The blinds are closed; I feel a deathly chill; 
I wonder if my parents live here still; 
And Rosy — I believe that was her name — 
My little sister; oh, it is a shame 



After Twenty Years. 103 

The way I left them twenty years ago. 
Are they alive? The truth I fear to know. 
But I must see if they are still around. 
What can that be? (It is a burial mound.) 
I read the name. My God! Can it be true? 
My sister's grave; oh Rose, it is not you! 

Almighty God of pity and of love! 

Look down on me from yon bright realms above, 

Behold the son who has this day return 'd 

Unto the spot for which he long has yearn'd. 

Canst Thou not lend a guiding hand to me 

To lead me from this [)lace of misery? 

It is too hard and I am sore afraid. 

Oh could I die and in iny grave be laid ! 

God, to think that by some unknown pow'r 

1 should be homeward led at this late hour 
To thus repent here after twenty years 

And bathe my sister's grave with bitter tears. 
Is there no [)ovv'r to bring to me relief? 
My heart is breaking — I shall die of grief. 
But hold! there is one thing I now must do; 
I must arise and further plans })ursue; 
I'll go and knock upon the oaken door — 
80 weather beaten by the storms of yore — 
And see if there is anvone at home. 



104 Fireside Poems. 

I feel as lost as when I stray'd in Rome. 

I knock; Alas! no answer comes to me 

Except the echo from some poplar tree; 

I knock again; not e'en a sound I hear 

Of footsteps in the hall approaching near. 

I wonder if tlie folks have moved away? 

If so, I wonder where they've gone to stay? 

I'll look around and through the shutters peep, 

The old folks may be deaf or fast asleep. 

The house seems empty. All within is gloom. 

As silent and as doleful as a tomb. 

I'll take mo Ijack and loudly knock once more. 

And louder far tlum when I knock'd before. 

I knock again and footsteps do I hear, 

My strength now fails; my nerves are rack'd with fear 

One minute more and I again behold 

The oaken door swing open as of old. 

An aged man with beard as white as snow 

Stands facing me with shoulders bending low; 

This can not be my father now so grey; 

If so, he's greatly chang'd in look and way, 

Still, twenty years can work a mighty change 

In one's appearance and make him look strange. 

When I left home my journey to pursue 

O'er land and sea — both strange as they were new — 



After Twenty Years. 105 

My father stood as straight with head upright, 

As ever stood a Geii'ral or a Knight. 

Tliis can not be my father, but I'll see; 

I'll speak his name, see how he answers me. 

Forgive me sir? But are you Mr. Stowe, 

Who settled here some forty years ago? 

FATPIER. 

Yes, stranger, I am Stowe, the man of yore 
Who's lived riglit here for fifty years or more. 

SON. 

And did a^ou have a son you christen'd Jack, 
Who left this home one night to ne'er come back? 



FATHER. 

I had, dear sir, a boy we lov'd and lost 

Whom I would now regain at any cost. 

(The tears come streaming down each wither'd cheek, 

He sobs aloud ere he again can speak.) 

What makes you ask? Who are you, sir, I pra}^? 

Do you know Jack? What brings you here to-day? 

SON. 

If there's one thing on earth which makes me sad 
And chills my heart, when else it might be glad. 
It is to see a person old and gray, 
Illtreated or misused in any way. 



106 Fireside Poems. 

There was a time when I was cold of heart, 
And naught on earth could e'er my pity start, 
But that was long ago while yet a boy, 
Ere I had learn'd that grief must mix with joy. 

lean not stand here weary and unknown; 

I must tell him : I am his Jack — his own 

Dear boy, who has return'd tired and footsore. 

To care for him — for aye and evermore. 

Dear father, do you know me? Oh, say yes! 

Don't keep me waiting in this deep distress. 

Can you not recognize in me the one 

Whom you once lov'd — j'-our lost, ungrateful son, 

Who has return'd to kiss that aged brow 

By marks of care so deeply furrow'd now^? 

FATHER. 

I do thank God! My Jack ; my precious boy! 
Come to my arms; great God but this is joy! 
Where have you been? How manly you have grown! 
I scare can think you are indeed my own. 

SON, 

But, fsither, whei^e is mother f Is she here? 
Why do you tremble? Speak! 

FATHEU. 

She is my dear! 



After Twcuiy Vears. 107 

SON. 

Then show me to her, so that I may see 
Once more that face which used to smile on me, 
And kiss again those lips ot" sweetest red 
As oft I did before I went to bed. 

FATHER. 

Then follow me, m}^ dear, thrice welcome Jack ; 
How glad she'll be to see her darling back ; 
For she, as I, oft fear'd that you were dead. 
And many were the pray'rs for you we've said. 
You'll find her older much than you expect. 
For time and care will none of us neglect; 
Rut liere we are, be careful how you speak, 
For she is feeble und her nerves are weak. 

SON. 

Say father, is that mother sitting tliere. 
An invalid re[)0sing in her chair, 
Row'd down l)y age, with locks of silv'ry gray, 
So hel[)less and so childish in her way? 
(), liow I long to tell her — tell my dear 
Old mother that her darling boy is here. 
But something rises in my throat, and I 
Can scarcely bear to meet her eye to eye. 

FATHKK. 

Wiiy hesitate? Go in ! and quickly, too. 



108 Fireside Poems. 

SON. 

Yes, father, I ivill go but not till you 

Have told her I am here, for well you know 

She's feeble now and such a blow 

Of glad surprise, might prove to her severe 

And cause her death. I'll wait for you out here. 

FATHER. — {Enters.) 
Prepare yourself, Amanda, for the news 
Which I have got — such welcome, joyful news. 

MOTHER. 

What news, my John? What joyful news have you? 

FATHER. 

Aye, gladsome news ! 'Tis welcome and 'tis true ! 
Some years ago, if you remember, still. 
Our only son — 

MOTHER. 

Yes, Jack ; that name doth fill 
My heart with sorrow, and recalls the past — 
The blessed joy which could not always last. 
Ah ! well do I remember that sad night. 
But what of it ? 

FATHER. 

The lost has come to light. 

MOTHER. 

Our boy, my darling Jack? Where is our boy? 



After Twenty Years. 109 



O tell nie John ! Where is he f Oh what joy ! 

FATHER. 

Be firm, Amanda; cheer up merrihM 

MOTHER. 

bring him to me John that I may see 
And clasp him to my breast — my child, 
My only, only boy ! 

SON. — [Enters.) 
Be reconciled 
Dear mother, for at last I'm here! 

MOTHER. 

Alas! can this be Jack? Not so, I fear! 

1 hardly recognize him, John. 

FATHER. 

You know 
A score of years, Amanda, it is now. 
Since Jack was home, and look ! his careworn brow 
Bears not the beauty of his younger years? 
Amanda, see! his eyes are wet with tears. 

SOX. — {Approaches and kisses her.) 
Yes mother it is I, and on this chain 
Behold your locket which I still retain — 
A treasure dear. Close to my aching heart 
I wore it when our homes were far a])art; 



110 Fireside Poems. 

And ev'ry time I o))e(l its tiny case 
The tears would trickle down my burning face, 
For in its clasp were pictures precious then 
As news from home to lonely exiled men. 

MOTHER. 

Come! kneel beside me Jack — my darling son 

.1 recognize you now, "Thy will be done," 

You have our glad forgiveness. As of old 

We welcome you once more into our fold. 

could you now — but you will never know 

The pain and anguish and forgotten woe 

Which took possession of our hearts and home 

When you forsook our liearth so far to roam, 

But we forgive you, yes, a thousand times, 

And welcome home our Jack whate'er his crimes. 
* * * * 

Now, father, all our earthly cares are o'er, 

Thank God ! we have our boy with us once more. 



THREE CHEERS! 

Three cheers for the mighty: the heroic braves. 

The patriot warriors vvdio slee]) in their graves; 
Long may their sad anthems be sung in each home; 

Long float our free banner o'er village and dome. 



Boyhood Denis. Ill 

Three cheers for our countr}^ : with children as free 
As sands of the seashore now kiss'd by the sea; 

Long live our grand Nation, nor humbled its pride 
While time shall continue, whatever betide. 

Three cheers for our freedom secured b}' her sons, 
Who battled, unconquer'd hy sabres and guns; 

Long wave its proud banner of red, white and l)lue, 
Till Gabriel musters the Final Review. 



BOYHOOD DAYS. 

Ah ! happy years, once more, who would not be a boy 'i— Byron. 

O blessed days of years gone by. 

Best days I've known since life's fair dawn ; 
Unlike the flow'rs which bloom and die. 

We prize them not till they are gone. 

Who would not give a fortune rare, 

To live again those happy days 
That never knew the pain and care 

Which haunt in age life's wear}' ways? 



112 Fireside Poems. 

But time is fast upon the wane; 

The years pass on with rapid stride ; 
With brighter hopes, or deeper pain, 

We're further borne on life's rough tide. 

Our youthful friends we held so dear 
Have drifted far to other climes, 

And marching on we shed a tear 
For by-gone joys and olden times. 



WHICH WOULD YOU BE, DEAR BOY? 

Which would you be, dear boy? I ask in a loving, friendly 
way ; 

You ragged boy, all cover'd with dirt, that roams our 
streets all day. 

Would you be a man of wit and letters, and tread in the 
foremost van? 

Or, would you rather live the life of a wretched beggar- 
man? 

Now is the time, while you are young, to plan a master 
ship 

With which to sail life's ocean o'er, one storms can never 
strip; 



An Ode to the Siren. 113 

And be a monarch of all seas on vvhicli you clioose to sail, 
A mighty ruler of all waves blown by the fiercest gale. 



AN ODE TO THE SIIiEN. 

giddy girl within your wretched heart doth dwell the 

heat of sorrow and of woe. 
To me it seems that heart is like a jail in which is lodged 

a horrid, tyrant foe; 
And with the flash of your bewitching eyes you at a glance 

enchant each heedless man ; 
It seems to be your very heart's delight, to lure men's souls 

into the scoundrels' van. 
You pace o;ir walks in satins, laces, silks; drive through 

our streets in carriages so gay; 
Attract the eyes of men where'er you go, and seek their 

comj)any where'er they stay, 
^"ou do not seek of them their purest love — 'tis yours to 

garner in their j)recious gold 
And lure their souls to ruin and to shame— how oft to 

them have you your kisses sold. 
* * * * 

1 think I see a man quite young in years, knock at a 

door of wickedness and sin: 



114 Fireside Poems. 

A woman comes (degraded in lier tastes) and with a win- 
ning manner asks him in; 

She lavishes on liim her fond caresses, and woos him with 
a fascinating voice ; 

They drink and eat like drnnkards and like gluttons 
till both are full — between them lies no choice. 

Then out the door he steps — this man of whom in otlier 
scenes the world may better think, — 

He staggers down the walk with lowly mien, his shoulders 
stooped — his brain o'erpow'rd with drink. 

The people gaze at him — they're thunder struck — but stum- 
bling on he passes down the walk; 

His once true friends like strangers pass him l)y — a ruin'd 
boy of whom they sadly talk. 

* .-!: * * 

Again I see him in a drunken state — his niother bending 
o'er ; with tearful eyes 

She turns awny disheartened and forlorn, and helplessly 
she wrings her hands and cries. 

She goes back to her home, so weak and wan, and sends a 
pray'r up to Almight}'- God, 

But 'tis in vain — he is forever lost — ere long he'll rest be- 
neath the mossy sod. 
* * * * 

Again, I see a hearse — a burden'd bier — sto]) at a grave, in 
which he's rudely laid; 



The I'll rest Love. 115 

There are no friends or loved ones gather'd near, his life is 

o'er — his course forever stay'd. 
They bury him as though he were a stranger upon this 

land on which God gave him birth, 
A prayer is quickly said, and all is over; upon his grave 

is heaped the mother earth. 

l'envoy. 

And thus, the sons of many noble mothers, are lur'd into 

the dismal depths of sin; 
On! On!! they tread the wicked road to ruin, disgrace their 

country, friends and all their kin. 
O, sons of God! Ye mortal sons of Adam: how dare ye 

stoop to misery and shame? 
God sent you here! O, choose Him for a leader, instead of 

her with an accursed name. 



THE PUREST LOVE. 

Hark ye, young pair! give ear to this old thought 

Which comes from one whose heart wild grief has wrung ; 

For centuries it has been clearly taught, 

Evinced by deeds, and echo'd by each tongue. 



116 Fireside Poems. 

It is a love more precious and sincere 

Than that which binds your tender hearts as one; 
Where one fool spurns, ten thousand wise revere, 

It seeks its goal until earth's work is done. 

It is the love of one, wliose toil-worn hands 
Have rear'd you from your infancy with care; 

Which in return your purest love demands — 
It is a mother's love for you, young pair. 



LINES. 



Sacredly inscribed to one whose friendship the author esteems far more than any other 
distant playmate of his youth, Mr. Gifford Hoag. 



Though hours may pass forever and days may go in turn, 
And fleeting years ma}^ sever the ties for which we yearn, 
Our hearts will grow the nearer from scenes of former joys, 
When life was ail the dearer and you and I were hoys. 

Though seas may sejiarate us in days and years to be. 
Yet naught can alienate us through all eternity. 
The rose of youth may wither and Time its odor steal. 
But we are hast'nine: thither where souls their love reveal. 



Ebciiczcr's 'Jliojiksgivuir/ Dinner. 117 

Though Fortune's flovv'rs may gludden your path in after 

years, 
And blighted hopes may sadden my life with bitter tears, 
Our friendshij) will grow stronger — no matter what destroys — 
Though 3'ou and I no longer are merry, ha})j)y boys. 



p:benezer's thanksgiving dinner. 

I had just unhitch'd the horses, after father's late return 
From his business to the city, when the fact I chanc'd to 

learn. 
That our neighbor, Ebenezer, was intending on that day 
To [)ay honor to his brethren, by these words I heard 

him say : 

"Wall, law me! if dis ain' Thursday, an' de day wot we 

agreed 
Dat we'd hev er sort o' pie-nic an' our color'd br'r'n feed ; 
Dar am {loor old 'Lijah Walker an' de Parson wid 'is wife, 
An' de litth? pickaninny — dey'U be 'ere yo' bet yo'r life. 

"Now de [)'int wot gits dis nigga' 's wha'll we git de tur- 
kev meat? 



118 Fireside Poems. 

S[)it 'er out! (loan keel) ine watin', move dein lips yo' hon- 
ey sweet!" 

"W'y de Lawd bress yo' !" said Dinah, "ober Massa Jones' 
fence, 

I was ober dar dis mor'in' an' oh Lawd ! bnt dey's so 
'mense." 

"Yo' doan tole n)e so? W'y honey! an' yo' i;it de tnrkey, 

too?" 
" Co'rse I did, an' he's a ro's'in' in de oben, sur' — dat's 

true ! 
An' I jist come to de 'elusion dat de br'r'n'd be 'ere 

soon, 
'Ca'se it's time dey's bein' empty — an' de town-bell's struck 

fur noon. 

"Bress de Lawd ef dey ain' comin' frou de front-yard wagin 

gate! 
I's doan got no time for foolin' — it am gitin' kind er late; 
yo yo' go an' meet de brudder an' 'is fam'ly; show dern in, 
Wile I hurries u[) de dinnah," said old Dinah with a grin. 

There tliey were with luml)er-wagon, bony horses, seated 

three ; 
And the blackest looking niggers that I ever chanc'd to 

see ; 



Eheiincr'x TlKinl^giving. Hi* 

While in L'lose i)ursait, Elijah Walker came a poking 'long, 
Grinning like a sick op[)ossum, singing o'er some niggro 
song. 

Ebenezer ran to greet them, shouting ev'ry step he took: 

"I's so glad ter seed yo' br'r'n !'' then their dusky hands 
he shook. 

"How's de fani'ly?" querried Watkins, trying to look dig- 
nified, 

"Dey's as us'al 'live an' kickiii'," Ebenezer prompt' replied. 

"Hitch yo' ho'ses, i)rudder Watkins, on de iam'ly hitchin' 

pos', 
Den we go into de cabin, an' we tackle dat 'ar roas' ; 
Dinah, she is got de dinnah ready, is er watin' too, 
An' de sooner we git in dar— w'y de quicker we git frou." 

Then they scrambled ibr the cabin — and believing it no 

sin, 
I just stole up to the window and most cautiously peeped 

in, 
And behold! with all the reverence that's allotted to a 

"coon,*' 
Sat the Parson 'mid his brethren, anxious for their dinner, 

soon. 



120 Fireside Poeiits. 

Came the clever hearted Dinah with a pan of turkey meat, 
And they smack'd tlieir li{)s togetlier as they view'd the 

goodies- sweet. 
Up rose Ebenezer Flinipkins, scratch'd his bhick iiiid wooly 

head ; 
With the air of an apostle — to his color'd brethren said : 

"Gedder 'roun' de table chillun, w'ile [ scz de bi'essin' o'er. 
In resemblance ob de Parson wot wuz nebber 'ere befor'." 
Then they gather'd 'round the table with a grin uj)on each 

face, 
And the royal Ebenezer jtass'd ai'o\ind a speech (»f !j,race. 

There was something in his manner that was stnimiiig 1 
must say, 

And his (piaint, nn})olish'd language measured off some- 
what this way : 

"Jesus bress de little (thillun, brcss de buzzard — ole, ole 
hen, 

Bress de good ole Parson Watkins, dat is all dis time — 
Amcnl" 

Next sjioke up Elijah Walker, standing nj) with bended 

knees, 
Blankly staring o'er the tal)le — breaking forth in words 

like these i 



Ehenrzer's TlKtnk^yiviinj. 121 

"l)i-U(l(ler Fliiijpkiiis, eu've de turkey! Esmerelda, slit de 

piu ! 
O, I feel so good an' liappy dat I's almos' gwiiie ter die!"' 

Then there was a little silence as they pass'd the turkey 
'round ; 

Everything was gravely quiet — on each face a look pro- 
found — 

While the tender hearted Dinah with a lialf, unutter'd 
wail 

(In a style — though odd — impressive,) sadly told this 
mournful tale: 

"Years ago, 1 doan forgit 'im, (pointing to an empty chair,) 
Dar wuz once a hajijiy chillun dat persided oher dare; 
But one day he git er chokin' in de middle ob 'is neck. 
An' we sen' an' git de doctah, but de cold he couldn' 
check. 

"Den de angels come an' git 'im, an' our Eph'am wuz no 

mor' ! 
An' we iiang some cra|)e ob mournin' on de nobbin ob de 

door ; 
An' we git er wooden coffin dat wuz not so bery deep, 
Lay 'im in, an' put de lid on't, so we know dat he would 

keep. 



122 Fireside Poeni,s\ 

"Now (lat happen' on Tlianksoil)iii', an' de nex' day wuz 

de one 
Dili we hel' de little fune'l, in due honor ob de son ; 
An' de br'r'n an' de sistern gedder'd in dis 'ere same rooni» 
An' de Parson preach'd a sermon 'bout our little E[>h'am's 

doom. 

"An' de good ole Parson Bigfeet, he read out a gilt-ed,ue' 

book, 
Den we gedder'd 'roun' de coffin so's ter take de final look, 
An' he says: 'Yo' mus'n't worry 'ea'se dis little chilhiii 

die, 
He has j'in'd de bressed angels, gwine up to 'is home on 

high.' 

"Den we knelt aroun' de coffin, an' 'e offer'd up a pray'r, 
Ask'd de good ole I^awd an' Massa ter take care ob 'ini up 

dare. 
Den de little conflagration all der heads in sorrow bow' 
Wile dey rose an' sing'd in chorus : 'Baby's wid de angels 

now !' " 



WJini Death Emilirovih Our Lifeless Clay. 123 



WHEN DEATH ENSHROUDS OUR LIFELESS CLAY 

What matters it to us, dear friend, 

When we repose within the grave, 
The honors that we might have won — 

The trophies eaptur'd by tlie brave? 
For both ere long will be forgot 

As time rolls gently on its way, 
And all our joys will disappear 

When Death enshrouds our lifeless clay. 

Why worry o'er the bitter past 

Or read the future with disdain? 
Yet greater feats are to perform, 

And grander heights left to attain. 
Should we give up? no, dear friend! 

Ambition's law we should obey ; 
And win or lose, 'twill matter not 

When Death enshrouds our lifeless clay. 

So [)ress we on with lionest toil 

\n search of treasures old and new, 

And let our minds forever soar 

To nobler heights of grander view; 



124 Fireside Poems. 

And let the past serve as a guide, 
As we niarcb on from day to day ; 

For life is short, 'twill all be o'er 

When Death enshrouds our lifeless clay. 



THOSE REBEL FLAGS. 

Do not worry. They can't have those 
Hard earn'd trophies of the past, 

For we \Vant the tatter'd relics — 
We'll defend them to the last. 

We have fought most dearly for them 

In the strife of long ago, 
Where we paid the highest ransom 

That a Nation could bestow. 

And why sliould we now return them, — 
What we look upon with pride, — 

Those Old flags by ''Blue Coats" captured. 
And for which our heroes died? 



Peace to tlie Departed. 125 

Starving, dying, dead in Libby 

Prison, did our soldiers lie; 
And in Anderson — no better; 

But as martyrs did they die. 

Like the treacherous Buchanan 

Cleveland show'd his colors true, 
It's an insult to Abe Lincoln 

And the Soldier Boys in Blue. 

"Send them back?" Well, hardly, Grover ; 

"Send them back?" Nay! not at all; 
Let them take them as we took them : 

Man to man, with shell and ball. 



PEACE TO THE DEPARTED. 

When deatli hath claim'd his prize, and coldness wraps 

The clay of a departed friend, or foe perhaps; 

O let him rest in peace. Do not revile 

The dead, for none but knaves will read and smile. 

All men are liable to err, and none 

There are, wlio have not wrought or ordained done 



126 Fireside Poems. 

Some deed in life, which only time can hide 
From sight. All men are weak, but most have pride; 
Though some have none; and they who lack this trait 
Will day by day in life degenerate. 

If one commit a wrong — some trifling act — 
Not known till after death to be a fact; 
Perchance to him the people honors pay 
And stand uncover'd 'round his pulseless clay ; 
No sooner has he pass'd beyond this sphere 
Than knaves begin to damn him — ain't it queer? 
But thus oft dies the cherish'd flow'r of fame, 
By treachery despoiled or crush'd by shame. 



THE MIRROR. 

The mirror of the buried past 

Reflects the deeds and actions wrought, 
And througli its aid the light is cast 

On arts by ancient science taught; 
Conveying to the thoughtful mind 

Far grander themes and nobler ways, 
While all its views of varied kind 

Make known the works of other days. 



The Sacred Love of God. 127 

It tells vvJiy some their hopes have lost 

And siuik ere they had reach'd their marks; 
While others though hy hreakers toss'd 

Have safely guided home their harcjues; 
It hrings to mind forgotten joys 

And sorrows of our youthful hours 
When we were careless girls and boys 

And ev'rv {)ath was bright with fiow'rs. 

Again it leads through mem'ry's hall 

To scones of darkness and of dread ; 
For oft it heli)S us to recall 

The likeness of the buried dead ; 
And looking back through mystic years 

We see amid the low'ring gloom 
Long funerals with burdened biers 

Pass slowlv onward to the tomb. 



THE SACRED LOVE OF GOD. 

The sacred love of (xod is shown in all his wond'rous arts, 
And wafted by each gentle breeze to earth's most distant 
parts ; 



128 Fireside Poems. 



We find it in the scented flow'rs which bloom so gay and 

bright, 
We see it twinkling in the stars while pouring forth tiieir 

light ; 
We see it in Aurora's rays, the rainbow's colors, too. 
And in old Luna's smiling face, and in the azure blue; 
For ev'rytliing 'twixt earth and sky — wherever man lias 

trod — 
Bears changeless record of this fact — the sacred love of 

God. 



TRIBUTE TO. SENATOR JOHN A. LOGAN. 



Died December 27, 1886. 



Again our Nation 's bow'd with grief, 
Again she sounds the fun'ral knell ; 

Gone from our midst unto his chief 
Is one who served his countrv well. 



Gone! but liis name shall be rever'd 
Among the forenmst of our land ; 

Years after we have disappear'd 
His virtues will respect command. 



My ^Itip. 129 

And history will speak his fame, 

That list'ning ears may sing his jjraise ; 

And coming statesmen will proclaim 
The wisdom of his noted ways. 

O, sleep brave hero of the past! 

Just laurels thou hast nobW won; 
Unswerv'd, unflinching to the last — 

Farewell, thou patriotic son ! 



MY SHIP. 

Proudly she sails! 
Blown by the gales 

Over the surging main. 
Bearing the wealth of my hopes to me. 
Ladened with treasure, my ship sails free 

Over the surging main. 
l)ringing me })leasures beyond compare; 
Diamonds and rubies of .splendor rare; 
Jewels which s}>arkle in radiant glare; — 

Over the surging main. 



130 Fireside Poemf^. 

Bravel}' she sails I 
Blown by the gales 

Over the surging main. 
Tossing about on the angry waves, 
Rushing along o'er a million graves, 

Over the surging main. 
Sailing o'er waters of depths profound ; 
Held by a rudder all safe and sound ; 
Straight in her course she's homeward bound, 

Over the surging main. 

Swiftly she sails ! 
Blown by the gales 

Over the surging main. 
Dashing in fury the waves run high : 
Darker than ever becomes the sky, 

Over the surging main. 
Louder and deeper the thunders clash ; 
Brighter and fiercer the lightnings flash ; 
Onward she comes with a mighty dash 1 

Over the surging main. 

Sternly she sails I 
Blown by the gales 
Over the surging main. 
Ploughing the waves — like a helpless child 



An Honest Th ought. 131 

Struggling for life in a tempest wild — 

Over the surging main. 
Firmly to duty the Helmsman stands; 
Sternly the C'aptain gives his commands; 
."^afely she's anchor'd by skillful hands, 

Over the suroino- main. 



AN HONEST THOUGHT. 

If a woman fall a victim to the luring arts of men, 
Should we aid her on to ruin, or to quickly rise again? 
Just because she err'd a trifle should we then the wayward 

scorn, 
Crush the life out of the fallen, wiien she's only in the 

morn 
Of her tickle ways and folly? Answer me! ye men of 

crime : 
Is it best to crush the erring or to raise them up in time?. 

Woman's kind and condescending in the circle of her clan, 
Always patient, always cheerful in companionship with 

man ; 
While a man is gruff and crusty, always grumbling at her 

deeds, 



132 Fireside Poems. 

Never satisfied to leave her till her tender heart he bleeds. 
Curses her and daily preaches: '"Woman is the slave of 

man," 
Holding that he is her master — she must serve him as she 

can. 

After summing up the matter and to state it rather brief, 
I am wont to think, dear reader, that I have a true belief: 
When a man degrades a woman — takes from her all that 

is pure — 
He's the blacker hearted sinner, and a devil to be sure; 
After he has won her favor — taken all that she can give — 
Then deserts her for another, he's a man not fit to live; 
Should the villain dare to slander her, whom he has 

wronged for aye. 
He is viler than the vilest worm that crawls beneatli tiie 

clay. 
If a man and woman wander and your search be kind and 

true 
Then I think you will discover: Man's the viler of the two. 



DESTINY. 

Where drooping willows bending low, 
Kiss the waters as they flow 



DeHtimj. 133 



Ri{)pling, gurgling, swiftly by, 
Eddys swirling as they die. 
Sweeping onward in their glee 
Down and toward the mighty sea: 
Let my bark be launch'd to-day; 
Let me go my destined way. 

Let oh let me onward glide 
With the rushing, ebbing tide. 
Seeking some yet distant sphere 
Where the breakers dashing near, 
Moaning, splashing, with a roar 
Wash the sandy, rocky shore. 
Where the beacon tow'r of Hope, 
Gleaming like a funeral pile, 
From Destruction's lonely isle, 
Lights a dreary, gloomy scope; 
Warning craftsmen to beware 
Of those shoals of grim dispair. 
Where some weary, struggling soul 
Sank ere he had reach'd his goal. 

Quick ! oh quickly let me drift 
To that haven where u{)lift 
Tow'rs of strength out of Distress: 
Fame and Fortune and Success. 



134 Fireside Poems. 

There, oh there ! let me abide 
Till my work on earth is done ; 

And upon the turning tide 

Send this message, "He has won !" 



THE WEST. 

Oh give me the West 
With vast riches blest ; 

With her valleys and mountains so free; 
'Tis there I can roam 
And make it my home 

In the west whicli is charming to me. 
land of pure air 
And scenery rare, 

With her arms stretching out to the sea ; 
O land of the brave, 
Unknown to the slave, 

And the home of the gallant and free. 

Oh give me the West ! 
The land I love best. 
With her canons and swift flowing rills ; 



TJic Farmer Boj/. 135 

Her briglit water falls 

^\lth high, craggy walls, 
x\ii<] her prairies and gray sloping hills. 

Oh, yes ! 'tis the land 

Of scenery grand 
That the mind of the traveler fills 

With awe and delight 

From morning till night — 
O, away to the valleys and hills. 

Then away! oh, away!! t(i the land of the free, 
To the land where the brave-hearted dwell ; 

By the brink of some brook, 

That the monntains o'erlook, 
I will camp in a sweet, sunny dell. 



THE FARMER BOY. 

As soon as Aurora has risen, the farmer boy gallant and 

free. 
Goes forth through the dewdrops that glisten, his light 

heart a fountain of glee; 
And up and down o'er the gray hills he guideth his team 

gee-haw-gee, 



18() Fiir.vdc Pontic. 

AihI bis mind with gayest of thouglit thrills — Oh 1 wish 1 
were merry as he. 

While tiie city seems doleful and dreary, the farmer boy's 
busy at home, 

A tilling the richest of prairie — the land where the free- 
hearted roam ; 

He shouts and laughs in his freedom, but oh the sad 
thoughts which haunt me 

While he whistles, or sings a sweet anthem, — Oh I wish I 
were merry as he. 



WHEN THE BABY miU}. 

Two i)retty blue eyes were closed for aye, 

Wlien the baby died; 
Two little white hands were cross'd to stay, 

When the baby died. 

One talkative tongue 

Which lull-a-bys sung, 
Was hnsh'd forever to sing no more 
The lull-a-by songs of the days of yore, 

When the babv died. 



Suicide. 137 

One innocent soul leap'd to the sky, 

When the baby died; 
Went home to the Shepherd, Chief on high. 

Freed for all time. 

From folly and crime, 
A soul in its glory went home to rest; 
To dwell in the Eden, the purest, best. 

When the baby died. 



SUICIDE. 

Grim death, life's great destroyer, whose presence all must 

meet. 
Relieves us of all 1)urdens, and rests our weary feet. 

When man is 'deep in trouble, and losses do abound, 
In death lie seeks a refuge, and sleeps a sleep profound. 

He does not well cojisider the horror of his doom. 
When, jn some fatal moment he seeks a felon's tomb. 



Ik'fore his outraged Maker he kneels a co'w'ring slave 
O, God I have })ity on hi in who rushes to his grave. 



188 Firei^Ulc Pocm^. 



A JUNE IDYL. 

Tis nine o'clock. Through evergreens 

Down by the garden wall, 
Where two loved ones are lost in dreams. 

The twilight shadows fall. 
The hammock sways, as with the breeze, 
The bats go flutt'ring through the trees; 
And silence reigns o'er all ; 
While birds repeat, 

In notes which tell : 
"Pure love is sweet 
And all is well." 

The grand old moon with sleepy eyes, 

Peers through the branches there, 
And from her throne, 'mid star-lit skies, 

Beholds the slumb'ring pair. 
The nightingale pipes forth, his lay — 
A hymn to the departed May — 
And night reclaims her share; 
Wl)ile birds rejx^at, 

in notes which tell : 
"Pure love is sweet 
And all is well." 



W'anted. 139 



WANTED. 

GIRL. 

A girl tluit is willing to battle in life, 

With a husband that's loving and true; 
A girl who'd be worthy the title of wife, 

And a girl that is willing to do. 
A girl that can handle the duster and broom, 
And do her own washing and clean up a room, 
And make a good pudding or pie; 
Who'll toil and not grumble, 
Make work fairly rumble. 
And never say "Can't," but "I'll try." 

MAN. 

A man wlio is dutiful, patient and kind. 

Who is willing to labor and wait; 
To marry the girl whom I have outlined. 

And to brave with her every fate. 
A man who'd he worthy of such a good wife. 
Whose days are not given to folly's rude strife; 
A man who is steady, and more; 
Who'll rise without ire 
And kindle the fire; 
StaN' home when his labors are o'er. 



140 Fireside Poems. 



IN MEMOlilAM. 

Died with the secret bnrved in her heart; 

Coiulemn'd and conquer'd in the bitter strife ; 
Too true and noble to his name impart, 

Who stole from her the treasure of her life. 
None more deserves the pity of us all 

"Than she who sleeps within that grave of shame 
Though what is ])ast no power can recall; 

Sweet be the rest of one we dare not blame. 



SANTA C'LAUS. 

"Who came through tlie soft, cold sleet and snow 
And shouted in welcome words, 'ho! ho!' 
And tap[)'d on the window, oh, so low?" 

'it was I!" quoth Santa (Jlaus ; 
And the little child laugh'd with a sweet ha! Iia ! 

And clapp'd her liands in ajijilause. 

"Who came in the late, dark hours of niglit 
And enter'd niv room, without a light — 



Santa Clatis. 141 

FillM all ol' my stoi-kinos, fall and tight?" 

"It was I !" (|ii()tli Santa Olaus ; 
And the little child laugh 'd with a sweet ha! ha! 

And clapjj'd her hands in applause. 

"Who comes to my home just once a year, 
With beard white as snow, and fleet reindeer, 
And brings all on earth to please and cheer?" 

"It is I!" quoth Santa Claus; 
And the little child laugh'd with a sweet ha! ha! 

And clapp'd her hands in applause. 

"Who slights all the wicked girls and boys. 
And leaves not a thing t' increase their joys; 
But gives to the good his load of toys?" 

"It is I!" quoth Santa Claus; 
And the little child laugh'd with a sweet ha! ha! 

xVnd clapi>'d her hands in applause. 

"Who watclies o'er us from day to day, 

And picks out the good, so Santa ma}" 

On ('hristmas Eve, take them playthings gay?" 

"It is Clod!" (|uoth Santa Claus; 
And the little child laugh'd with a sweet ha! ha! 

And cla[ip'd her hands in a})plause. 



142 Firei^'ide Poems^. 

"Who loves all the children — pure tis gold — 

And asks them to enter heaven's fold ; 

True friend of the rich and goor — I'm told?" 

"It is God !" quoth Santa Glaus ; 
And the little child laugh'd with a sweet ha! ha! 

And clap])'d her hands in applause. 



AUTOGKAPIi. 

TO A LADY. 

Whenever with thy pensive eye this page thou scannest 
o'er, 
And thoughts of dear and ahsent friends come flitting to 
thy mind, 
Tiiink then of liim, long lost to sight, j)erliaps of earth no 
more, 
Who in the fliglit of fleeting years was distanced — left 
behind ; 
Or, stray'd away to foreign [)orts, across the ocean wide. 
Whence thou wilt ne'er the destination of his journey 
learn ; 
And trust in God. The frailest craft adown life's ebbing 
tide 
May yet be harbored at that shore for which so many 
yearn. 



J/// Valrntinc. 148 



MY VALENTINE. 



TO LILLIE 



Star of my hopes, the idol of my dreams, 

Great art thy charms. Thine eye with sparkling beams 

Shines forth with |)0\v'i- my passionate soul to thrill. 

And love aroused inspire my willing quill. 

Sweet is thy love, and beautiful thy face; 

A model type of our fair Saxon race. 

Now in thy })riine — ^just scaled the heights of youth — 

A charming maid, a fairy one forsooth. 

Devout thou'dst be, a worshiper of men ; 

True to a trust, a picture for my pen. 

My })urest love I send to thee to-day ; 

T!iat love of h)ves which prompts this 

VOTIVK LAV. 

Thou with dimpled cheeks so rosy. 
Sweet and precious as a posy ; 
Thou whom I alone adore; 
Love as never loved before; 
Thou as winsome as a fairy: 
Thou with whom I long to tarry ; 
Thou so hap{)y, bright and fair: 
Thou with ringlets golden, rare; 



144 Fireside Poems. 



Thou with all the sweetest grace, 
That becomes a queenly face, 
With angelic soul so clear; 
Queen of love, what needst thou fear 
When to thee I prove my love — 
True as Noah's faithful dove? 

Bright as beams the ev'ning star 
Down through night's dark veil so far 
Doth thy sparkling eyes foretell 
Of the passion that doth dwell 
Dee})ly buryed in thy breast, 
In a heart of guilt suppress'd. 

Fairest maiden, ever coy, 

Thou whose presence gives me joy, 

I implore of thee this day: 

Answer me without delay. 

If thou'lt be forever mine, 

Be mine own true Valentine. 



LINES TO MAZIE 



What joy can atone for the anguisli and sorrow 

That's buryed from sight in the grief swollen heart? 



Jjincx to ./ii/la . 14.5 

A jov of to-day brings a grief on the morrow 
And all that is blessed is warn'd to depart. 

Oh Mazie I'm dreaming in deep meditation ; 

My soul in its glor\^ goes soaring to-day; 
What motive or feeling prompts this demonstration 

Of friendship for thee, I'm unable to say. 

God grant that the rose of a life everlasting 
May bloom and outrival all others, in you ; 

No threatening cloud may its shadows be casting 
O'er thee, is the wish of a friend who is true. 



LINES TO .JULIA . 

Some sa}' that old friends are the best, 

Because they've won our true respect ; 
l)Ut why not give the new a test? 

Why should we e'er their love neglect? 
I love my friends although they're few: 

I cherish them with all my heart; 
Oh sad will be that hour, when you 

And I and all our friends must part. 



14() Firr^Ule Poniis. 



A WISH EXPRESSED. 

When to this world so cold and sere, 

I bid adieu ; and to another sphere 

My spirit wings its grand, im mortal tiight — 

To lands eternal where our God is light; — 

Where seraphs ever twang their golden lyres; 

To those angelic lands, where love aspires 

To reign as chief while with it friendship blends, 

And everything to purest pleasure tends ; 

'Tis my most sacred wish, my last behest 

Recorded here, that my poor dust shall rest 

Beneath some tree, near which smooth waters glide. 

High on the bliiff — asleep in Riverside.* 

The Marshalltowii cemetery. 



THE END. 



